


DIY Success

by deinvati



Series: DIY Series [1]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: 1920s, 1920s phone sex, Although I recommend it because it's awesome, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Desk Sex, F/M, How can you have phone sex if it takes two hands to operate the phone?, I feel pressured to write ridiculous tags, Light Angst, No Spoilers, Post-Season/Series 02, Season/Series 02, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Strong Female Characters, Wall Sex, You don't have to have seen the show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-05-10 20:37:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 48,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5599990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deinvati/pseuds/deinvati
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom Hardy is much too good looking to not be getting laid in this series. We need to do something about that. </p>
<p>You don't have to have seen Peaky Blinders to read, although it is an excellent watch. </p>
<p>Alfie Solomons has a candidate for his bakery's new foreman.  Spoiler alert:  not a man.</p>
<p>Mabel's middle class upbringing didn't stop her from jumping at the chance to work in factories during the war, running circles around the men there. Now she's knocking on Alfie Solomons' door, and she's fully capable of running circles around him. Who's going to get dizzy first?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> YOU GUYS!! THERE IS [ART!!](http://pornbunnyfarm.com/files/deivanti%20commission1_2.jpg)
> 
> By the lovely and beautiful [Marourin](http://marourin.tumblr.com/tagged/my-art), who brought Alfie and Mabel to life so perfectly. 
> 
> And there's more art on DIY Happiness!

The distinction between bread and rum in this bakery is NOT DISCUSSED!"

 

* * *

 

Alfie sat at his desk, frowning at the paperwork in front of him. Just when he thought he'd completed more paperwork than any self-respecting gangster had an obligation to, Ollie would shuffle more in. His frown turned to a scowl and he shoved the papers and spectacles away from him and dragged a hand down his face. He debated the benefit of an early morning helping of white bread vs how much he needed to get done today. He still had work to oversee out on the floor this afternoon and a few-

"Fuck it."

He already hated everything, one drink wasn't going to be the tipping point of his day. Alfie hauled himself out of his chair and ambled to the liquor cart just as a knock sounded at the door. Ollie-damn that useless infant. He couldn't make a decision on his own if the choices were blonde or brunette and lined up in front of him.

As the door behind him opened without waiting for an answer, Alfie felt his mask slide back in place. He hadn't realised how far the combination of boredom and exhaustion had dropped his guard. He couldn't see him, but he could sense Ollie's hesitation and he took his time measuring out a healthy few fingers of the white.

"What the fuck is it?" he barked when it became apparent that Ollie wasn't going to speak.

"Um...sir, uh. Sir, there's someone here about the foreman position, and I...I thought...you'd..." Ollie fumbled.

"Mmph," Alfie grunted, replacing the bottle. "Well, send him up."

Ollie hesitated. "Uh, well, sir, actually..."

"Actually?" Alfie's voice sharpened.

"Actually, I'm already up," a decidedly non-male voice stated behind him.

Alfie turned and took in the sight before him.

She was fair skinned and the dark hair that peeked out from under her hat curled prettily around her face. Her dress had a stylish dropped waist but the material was sturdy, no doubt something that was meant to last through many washings. Nonetheless, the pale green colour suited her, and she probably knew it.

"Mabel Ziemann," she said, reaching out her hand. Alfie's sharp eyes took in her calloused hands and muscled forearm before he met her grip in a shake rather than with a kiss. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, and she looked absurdly pleased he'd noticed this about her.

"Ms Ziemann. What can I do for you?" Alfie's tone was neither friendly or rude, but very purposefully neutral. His face gave nothing away, and he couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw a flash of uncertainty before it was covered up and a shawl of determination and confidence settled around her shoulders.

"As your man said, I'm here about the foreman position I'd heard about. I brought a list of my qualifications-"

"Ah, that position had been filled," Alfie interrupted. He moved around the desk to take her elbow. "Sorry about the waste of a trip, Ollie here can show you out."

Mabel gently removed her elbow from his grip and looked directly into Alfie's face. He watched her look him over, deliberately taking in the way he appeared, shoulders carefully rounded, beard deliberately scruffy. He stood with a slight hunch, bringing their eyes almost level. However, at his full height, he would easily be able to overwhelm her, and as carefully constructed as this facade was, his reputation as an unlit but short fuse was far-reaching.

Whatever conclusions she'd drawn from her appraisal, she kept to herself. "My qualifications were gathered as a factory foreman during the war," she said simply. "I'm strong, I work hard, I'm smart, and I have a background that can help run your...bakery."

Alfie held his hand up to stop her. "Ollie?" he said, without taking his eyes off of Mabel. She met his gaze calmly.

"Yeah, boss?"

"Fuck off."

"Yeah, boss."

As the door closed behind him, Alfie crossed his arms and leant back on his overflowing desk. He regarded her coolly and she folded her hands and let him. His slumped posture belied his intelligent blue eyes, and he studied the woman in front of him: A woman used to being in a man's world, in fact being in charge of men in a man's world. He'd expected haughtiness, anger, maybe even brashness from her, but she just looked back at him with calm confidence.

"Mmph."

It wasn't, but she took that as a sign to continue. "I know what you're working on here, and I know you need someone to run this side of things. I'm new in town, I don't have ties anywhere else and no obligations outside of these walls. I can increase your production by 5% in the next year, 15% in the next two. In my last job I handled hiring, paperwork, layoffs, strikes, scabbers, the production floor and firing. This is actually a bit of a smaller operation, although more specialised, so it may be possible for me to..."

"Fuck me. I'm gonna stop you, love. You had me at 'paperwork'."

Mabel aimed a small smile at his messy desk. Her mischievous brown eyes flashed as she asked, "Did I now?"

Alfie recognised the tease for what it was: an attempt to align herself with him and put them on equal footing. He wasn't going to let it work, but he respected her for the attempt all the same.

"Mmph," he grunted. "Tell you what, sweetheart. Why don't you talk to Ollie on your way out, we could use a good secretary round here and he can get you a desk set up by the end of the month."

He didn't wait for her reaction, just turned back to the liquor cart he'd abandoned earlier.

She didn't let the 'sweetheart' or the 'secretary' jibe affect her. She saw them for what they were: a test, and she looked ready for any he saw fit to throw out.

"Mr Solomons, I'd be happy to start as foreman right away, tomorrow if you like, and I could even be talked into accepting only a pound more than the going wage, even though I bring much more to the table than you've been currently used to."

She, on the other hand, did wait for his reaction, like she had all the time in the world.

Alfie felt a genuine laugh bubble up in his chest, although he refused to let it out. Instead, he cocked an eyebrow and let her sweat. Cheeky Jewish girl, far from home but confident she could walk into any of the factories on Camden Road and do a better job than the current bloke. Hmm. Paperwork indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-Brit-picked, so if you see something, let me know!


	2. Chapter 2

Alfie made a decision and downed his glass in one go.

"Right, love. Drop off your qualifications, I'll take a look and we'll settle up tomorrow. Come back then."

It was a clear dismissal. Mabel eyed him, weighing his response, like she was trying to decide if this was also a test. She decided it wasn't, so she'd better start off the way she'd like to continue.

"It's Ms Ziemann, if you please, sir," and she pursed her lips, spit quickly into her palm, and held it out to shake.

This time, Alfie did smile. It was there and gone in a flash, but definitely there. He set down his glass, copied her actions, and shook Mabel's hand. He was pleased with her firm handshake. He couldn't wait to see what she could do.

Alfie was in motion the second her skirt swished out of sight. "OLLIE. Get your arse in here."

His curly head poked in the door.

"Get Abe to follow her, find out if she has any connections to the Blinders or Sabini. If she does, take care of her. I'm not puttin' up with their fuckin' shite anymore, make sure they knows it."

"Got it, boss."

Alfie picked up her papers and began to read. Halfway through, he pulled his phone closer to him and lifted the handset.

* * *

Mabel managed to contain her excitement until she got to the street, but after that, she couldn't stop the grin that spread over her face. The wind whipped her and she had to grab her hat regardless of her hatpin, but she didn't care. She'd done it, she could feel it in her bones. The biggest of the hurdles had already been surpassed, she'd won him over. Alfie Solomons was not the first arsehole she'd had to deal with, and he probably wouldn't be the last.

The thought of Alfie spread a warm, giddy sensation through her, and she mentally scowled at herself. _'What on earth is the matter with you, Mabe? You're probably just excited about the job. I mean, sure, he's good looking-wait. Good looking? Seriously, did that just cross my mind as a fully-formulated thought? What is_ wrong _with me?'_

She chided herself while she sidestepped end-of-winter slush and murky puddles on her way to the boarding house. Yes, okay, she was lonely in this big city, and fine, she'd been wound pretty tightly, but he wasn't anything amazing, she scolded herself.

Except for his eyes. She could admit that, even to herself. Sharp, intelligent no matter what he'd have you believe, and when he looked at her, she felt he could see right through her. Blue eyes, icy at times, stormy at others, with perfect crinkles at the corners when she'd made him smile. His smile was nice too, full bottom lip quirked up at the side, but that was probably more about her being able to make him smile than anything else. It did make her wonder, though, what his laugh would sound like. How often did gangsters get to laugh, she wondered.

That thought pulled her out of her reverie. ' _Gangster_ ', she chided herself. ' _Stupid_ Yaldeh _. What are you doing, mooning about your boss's mouth? I mean, eyes? Only eyes, and nothing more? I mean,_ hopefully _your boss? Oh, for crying out loud, stop thinking.'_

With a shake of her head, she looked up to see she'd made it to her boarding house. ' _Apparently, time passes quickly when you're being dumb_.' She grappled her key from her purse, knowing it would be unlocked but hoping anyway that Mrs Feinstein had started locking up even if she was in the house. Mabel sighed as the knob turned easily in her grasp. Well, she couldn't say she hadn't tried to convince her.

"Hello? Mrs Feinstein?"

"In the kitchen, dear!"

She set her purse and hat on the side table and navigated through the big sitting room. When she reached it, the kitchen was warm, cosy, and smelled of bread and home. Mrs Feinstein's expectant face greeted her.

"Well? How did it go?"

"I think...I think it went well, ma'am."

"Oh, now, you stop it with the 'ma'am' nonsense. I told you, call me Mrs F if you can't handle Anna. We business women have to stick together! No one else is looking out for us, after all." She turned back to the stove, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Yes, ma'am." Mabel smiled to herself at that. Mrs F had been a business woman a lot longer than she had. According to the other tenants, she'd been running the house 'since time out of mind'. Mabel knew from first-hand experience how difficult it was to find and keep reputable employment if you were a woman, even now after the war, and she couldn't help but admire the grizzled woman in front of her. She also couldn't guiltily help but think of her parents, back home. They didn't approve of her working, not even before she'd packed up and moved to the big city. But she knew that no matter their disapproval, they'd always take her in if she truly needed it. She doubted Mrs F had had such a safety net.

"Did you see Ollie when you were there?"

"Briefly, I didn't get a chance to talk to him, though, or even really introduce myself. He seems very important." Mabel wasn't above smoothing her way with flattery if she could get away with it.

"Ah, yes, he's always running off doing what needs to be done for Mr Solomons, who is a pretty big mover and shaker, I don't mind telling you." Her pride was evident on her face. Mabel was fairly sure that even if Mrs F wasn't 100% certain what went on at the "bakery", she had a pretty good idea, so it warmed her heart to see her proud of her son anyway. And why not, she asked herself. It's not everyone that gets to be the right hand of a man so influential and powerful. Even if he was unreachable and a little bit terrifying.

Almost as if picking up on her train of thought, Mrs F said from the cutting board, "You watch out for that one, now. He's not a good man." Brandishing her knife and punctuating her words, Mabel let her rant. She didn't actually give her any new information about the bakery or its mysterious owner, although if she'd been pumping her for gossip about the neighbours, she'd have been set.

Mabel made to head to her room, waving her hand at the admonition that supper was promptly at 7, whether she was there or not.

"Oh, I almost forgot! There's a letter for you from Lincoln. Friend from back home?" Mrs F produced the envelope from her apron pocket and watched for Mabel's reaction.

She didn't have to wait long. As soon as Mabel spotted the familiar feminine scrawl across the front, she squealed. "Oh, it's my _best_ friend! She said she'd write, but she's always so busy..." she trailed off as she ripped the paper and devoured the words within. "She wants to come visit! Oh, wouldn't that be lovely? I love it here, but sometimes I do get so homesick. Hazel would be just the cure."

"Hazel?" Mrs F asked.

"Yes, Hazel Tritton," Mabel remarked offhandedly. "She's been my best friend since we were both in nappies, and we have always had such fun! When my shift would be over at The Mill, she and I would grab a big group of friends and talk some of the boys from The Mill into taking us dancing. We would stay out late, smoking and drinking and my parents would be furious when I came home." She smiled at the deluge of memories.

"Is she a business woman herself, then?"

"Oh, Hazel? No, definitely not! No, she's one of those bright young things, bored and spending her parents' money. She'll probably never work a day in her life if she can help it."

Mrs F thought she might have imagined the storm cloud that crossed Mabel's face at the mention of 'parent's money', but decided to change the subject anyway. "When is she comin' down?"

"Hmm. Says she's thinking end of the month. Do you think that'll be alright? Could she stay here?"

"Well I don't see why not, but she's sleeping on the cot in your room. I'll not be using up a whole room on your friend, not when there's paying customers to put up."

"Yes, ma'am!" Mabel's glee caused her to take the stairs two at a time up to her room. She sat at her tiny desk to draft a quick reply to her friend and let her know she was anxiously awaited. Then she grabbed her ever-present notebook to jot down her impressions of what she'd seen of the still while they were fresh in her mind.

* * *

Alfie's feet were on his desk and he chewed a toothpick while he pondered what Abe had reported. If she really was working for someone, it was either incredibly brilliant or incredibly stupid that they'd had her lodging at Ollie's mother's boarding house. He just couldn't decide which.

But, he decided, she couldn't have known that he actually had a contact (well, a contact with a contact) at the factory she'd listed as previous employment. He'd called, and Mabel had checked out, with glowing reports. Apparently, she had a reputation as being calm and clever, was best friends with the boss's daughter, and was made foreman at the recommendation of her coworkers. Still, an easily verified work history and apparently good qualifications didn't necessarily mean she wasn't in someone's pocket.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-Brit picked, so if you see any errors, gimme a shout. 
> 
> A trillion thanks to my brilliant beta Lystan, but any errors you see are, regretfully, mine.

Mabel's entire body thrummed with energy as she surged through her morning routine. ' _Ok, calm down. You don't have the job yet, even though you should have the job, and you will, but you don't, so CALM DOWN. Right. There's no sense getting worked up.'_ Far too early, she was ready, feet encased in her favorite work boots, her sturdy plain dress hugging her curves. It was a fine line, looking good but not too good, and Mabel had it down to a science.

Too early for Mrs. F's breakfast, she snuck some bread out of the kitchen and grabbed her hat and purse. Maybe the walk would calm her down. She found herself at the steps leading to the still and took a few calming breaths. She could do this. She squared her shoulders and headed up.

Surprisingly, the lamps were lit in Alfie's office. She'd expected an early shift to be in swing but thought she'd just get acquainted with the layout and confirm some of her guesses she'd written down yesterday. Well, if the man himself was available, she might as well find out if it was worth the trouble.

Alfie's gruff, "What the fuck is it?" answered her knock, and she let herself in. He was hunched over working on something but glanced up when she entered. Then he tossed his glasses on the pile that was his desk before leaning back and propping his feet up.

"So, Ms. Ziemann. Fosters of Lincoln, eh? S'a pretty big place to be foreman."

"Yes, sir, although we always called it 'The Mill'. I can assure you, sir, that my work speaks for itself. I was foreman there for two years over the agricultural machin..."

"Oh, shut up, shut up," Alfie flapped a hand at her. "That's not what I need to know."

Mabel hesitated. "O...kay."

"What I need to know is...can you get me a tank?"

Mabel laughed. Then she watched Alfie's eyes stare steadily into hers. Clearly he wasn't kidding. She cleared her throat.

"I...will see what I can do. Sir."

"Fabulous. Now that we have the most important bit out of the way, day shift starts at 7 am. You'll be on a trial basis until I decide if you're worth paying, and your desk will be out on the floor. Ollie will show you around. You're here early, so you can get started on paperwork right away, he's not here anyway and there's enough here to keep us busy until the savior comes, so have at." He started stacking papers, mindless of any order, just obviously eager to get rid of them.

"Thank you, Mr. Solomons, that sounds perfect. Except, of course for the part where you're not going to pay me, and I'll need to know where I can move my desk so it's not on the floor. Otherwise, we are on exactly the same page." Mabel smiled sweetly and held her hand out for the stack of papers.

"Ah, fuck, I don't care where you move it. You're not gonna bother me with shite like this, are ya?"

"Of course not, sir," she said, accepting the stack. "Also, here is the minimum wage I'd be willing to accept during this trial period, and the length of time I expect it will last. Beyond that, we'll have to discuss." She slid a slip of paper from her pocket over the desk to him.

He eyed the paper then picked it up to look at it closer. "What the fuck is that? No, no, no, you'll get maybe half of that and you'll like it." He spun the slip through the air back at her.

"Oh," Mabel said, looking sadly at the ground. She regretfully slid the stack of papers back into Alfie's hands and sighed dramatically. "Well, it was a good run. I've really enjoyed my time here in your...office. I hope we can do it again sometime."

"Now...wait a minute, woman, wait a minute." Alfie glared at her, shoving the papers back at her. "Come on! You're not going to give me any budge on that number?! Damn it, that's just...that's _cruel_ is what that is." He gave up trying to get her to take the papers and threw them on his desk instead. "Fuck, and people call me heartless."

Mabel fought off the urge to laugh and returned his glare coolly. She sighed again. "Mr. Solomons, sir, I am worth every farthing of the money listed there, plus quite a few more that I am not charging you. If you cannot come up with at least three-quarters of that, well, I'm afraid you won't get to have me be cruel to you ever again."

For a second, heat flashed in Alfie's eyes at that, so fast she wasn't sure she saw it at all and then he carefully narrowed them at her. He stared silently for a few seconds. "Two-thirds."

"Six-eighths," she countered.

Alfie's grin spread unhindered across his bearded face. "Well, fuck." He threw his hands up. "Fine!" he declared. "Shortest negotiation of my natural life. My father is rolling in his grave right now, I just want you to know that. On pain of death, this does not leave this office, yeah?"

"Yeah, boss." She matched his grin wholeheartedly, spit on her palm and clapped it to his.

* * *

The first few days on the job passed by in a whirl of names, faces, procedures, and safety precautions. Say what you want about illegal distilleries, they're more flammable than anything she'd worked in before and she wasn't letting any disasters happen on her watch.

Occasionally she'd sense Alfie's eyes on her, but couldn't pin him down long enough to eye him back, let alone talk to him. He was the least of her concerns because he wasn't wrong about needing a new foreman. She found herself staying late and coming in early, just to try and make a dent in the backlog of work she'd faced. She knew she had Alfie himself to thank for the mountains of paperwork that sluiced her way, a flood she knew wouldn't stop on its own anytime soon. Fortunately, as she got to know the crew a little better, she found a refreshing number of people she genuinely liked, and could be trusted to pick up additional tasks. She took it upon herself to make small changes, and as she didn't hear anything back from the man upstairs, a few bigger ones. Oh, she didn't have any delusions that she was pulling any wool over Alfie's eyes, but thus far he hadn't stopped her and she was grateful for the freedom to make things better.

After the first two weeks, she felt she'd gotten a handle on things well enough that she finally accepted the office girls' offer of a night on the town. She'd been in London long enough and still didn't really feel like she lived there yet. Plus, when Hazel came, she wanted to be able to paint the town, show her the best clubs and enjoy herself again. So she gratefully joined them on their regularly scheduled nights of debauchery and excess and remembered how to breathe. They would grab boys from the floor to take with them, just like back home. Ollie and Abe were regulars, but they seemed to have a ready pool to choose from and while many of the girls wound up "sharing a cab" at the end of the night with the man of their choosing, Mabel wasn't interested in anything outside of drinks and dancing. She wasn't a puritan, far from it, in fact. But she knew the tightrope she had to walk was fine as it was, and any kind of relationship with one of her subordinates was drama she didn't want. ' _Maybe someday I'll have a life outside of the still and I'll be able to meet a man that won't bore me stupid inside of ten minutes_ ', she lamented regularly.

Although she'd heard rumors of Alfie's black temper, by week three she finally got to experience one for herself. He could make grown men wet themselves if he wanted, and she wouldn't have been surprised if he'd done so in the past. No one would tell her if it had actually happened, but that didn't stop her from opening a pool to guess the next time it would. She found out later that there was a side pool as to who it was going to be and she patted herself on the back that while her name was in the pool, there weren't many takers. The tongue lashing she and her crew suffered through Tuesday morning was nothing, though, compared to the one she had to face when she went to his office by herself. She'd needed his approval on the new floor plan she'd devised for the layout of barrels, tools, etc, and she'd come prepared to defend her ideas with percentages, facts, and testimonies but didn't even get close to a chance to use them. Alfie's diatribe rolled over her and eventually, when it started to seem very personal, she looked at Ollie for any clues as to where this was coming from. Naturally Alfie noticed her glance at his right-hand man and launched into an even more vicious rant about how _he_ was the boss, not Ollie, and there are _rules_ and how everyone in this town could respect a rule he'd lay down, except apparently, for Mabel Fucking Ziemann, and Mabel eventually tuned it out. She didn't let her wary eyes leave his, though, and she supplied nods and 'Yes, sir's in all the right places while mentally she sifted through her actions for the past three weeks to figure out just what the fuck he was so bloody mad about.

When Alfie paused to breathe, Mabel licked her lips and tucked a curl behind her ear. She had just taken a breath to calm herself when she noticed the look that flashed over Alfie's face. He was staring at her lips like they were his last meal and he couldn't hide the lust and pure _want_ that contorted his handsome features. The look hit her like lightning, but as soon as it had a chance to register and her slow body formulated an appropriate (but not work appropriate) reaction, he had himself under control again and had dismissed her with his standard "Now fuck off."

' _Well_ ,' she told herself _, 'that should make for an interesting rest of the day. And to think, I'd almost gotten a handle on those horrendously unprofessional dreams I'd been having.'_

By Thursday, Mabel had a theory and a plan to test it. Sure, she was a fanciful, silly girl, but...could Alfie Solomons, _the_ Alfie Solomons...want her? Just a little? If it wasn't true, no harm done, but if that look ( _please, please, don't let me have imagined it_) was anything to go by, her guess was that Alfie was in a particularly foul mood because she'd been out with some of the boys from the still the weekend before. Well, she had one more weekend before Hazel came to town, and she was going to enjoy herself. And if she just so happened to keep her eyes and ears open this time, and maybe have an especially good time while looking especially delectable, well, more's the pity for those who don't attend. She made sure it was known where she'd be and when, but also ensured that neither Abe nor Ollie was in attendance this time. If he wanted to know what she was up to, he'd have to work for it.

Friday night, she and her gaggle of friends staggered from one joint to the next, and she didn't notice anything out of the ordinary until she was almost ready to call it a night. Then she spotted Abe, crouched at the bar and scurrying to hunch over his drink in the shadows once he'd gotten it. ' _Oh Alfie,_ ' she thought ruefully. ' _I'm just a teeny bit disappointed,'_ as she smiled to herself.

Making sure Abe saw her, she asked one of the gentlemen if he could grab her a cab and then leaned in close to him while they waited. Then, she made it a point to leave alone. She checking the shadows for Abe as she climbed in the cab, but he'd moved and she couldn't spot him. Hmm. She worried her lower lip and debated. She could just go back in, dance a little more and make _sure_ Abe saw her leave...

"Hey, love. In or out, yeah?"

Right. She was a strong, independent woman, and she was being ridiculous. Homeward bound. Hazel's train would be in early tomorrow, and she wanted to be there to meet it.

* * *

Alfie was not a patient man. People knew this, hell, everyone knew this. So why the fuck Abe kept babbling at him was enough to make his brain short out and he'd have to shoot someone. Probably Abe.

Fuck. This mess with Mabel was too much. He couldn't help but admire her, professionally, of course. The changes she'd made were enough to convince him, but the floor plan she'd proposed was fairly brilliant and he could see at least the surface benefits immediately. It'd be even better if he could move the vats, but the cost to do so...

"Wait, say that again," he commanded Abe.

"I said, she left with some bloke in a cab."

"What fuckin bloke? This is what I'm paying you for. I need to know if she's working for someone, the BLOKE is the whole damn reason for this fuckin...Sod this. Abe, I'm just gonna shoot you, yeah? So hold still."

"Sir! Wait! Please, sir. What I mean to say is that I didn't know him."

"Yeah, Abe, I got that. S'matter of fact why you've got a gun pointed at your head."

"I mean, I would have done! If there was anything to know!"

Alfie cocked the gun. "Abe. You've got three seconds to make some kind of sense."

"He wasn't anyone! I swear it! I would have known him if he was, and he wasn't hangin' around anyone neither! He was just some boring chap!"

Alfie uncocked the gun. "Some boring chap."

"Yes, sir." Abe could sense the light and the end of the tunnel and he hurried to get the words out before it could collapse on him. "Tha's what she said. Mabel. I mean, Ms. Ziemann. To Rachel. She said he was just some boring chap but she was ready to go home because she had a train to catch the next day."

Alfie lowered the gun. "Mmhm."

Abe felt his knees weaken, just a bit, and said a prayer of thanks he hadn't just lost the pool.

Alfie tucked the gun back in the drawer. "Do you know where she was going? On this train?"

"No, sir. But!" he added hastily as he saw Alfie's hand reach for the drawer. "She couldn't have gone far because Ollie stopped by his mum's this morning and she was there. She and some ritzy gal, thick as thieves they was."

"Right." Alfie's hand dropped from the drawer. "Alright. Send Ollie in when he gets here."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Mmph." Alfie waved his hand in dismissal.

So. Ritzy gal. Boring chap. He had a few questions for Ollie, definitely.

* * *

Monday morning Mabel left Hazel sleeping off the drink from the night before. She reminded her when breakfast was and when she'd be back, which was met with a glare from under the duvet. Mabel smiled and left with a quick wave. If she was up and dressed before noon, Mabel would consider it a small miracle.

She came in to find a bustle of activity where she hadn't expected any and Alfie shouting orders over the din. She decided to lay low, he'd surely seek her out when he decided he needed her. In the meantime, she heard paperwork calling her name. She immersed herself a few hours, but when she straightened to stretch her back, she heard the uproar had died down and decided to investigate.

When she walked onto the floor, she noticed that quite a bit of equipment had been moved around. In fact...this looked suspiciously like her layout plan she'd planned on proposing to Alfie. She felt heat flood her face as anger boiled in her gut. How dare he! He hadn't even talked to her about this, and here he was playing it off like it was his idea? She tried to tamp down her fury when she realized she was grinding her teeth so hard she was afraid she'd break something. ' _Nope. No, no, no,_.' she told herself. ' _This is not happening. Not again. Fucking MEN! I don't care how good looking he is, or how many times I've dreamt of his hands. This is NOT happening. Now, stop thinking about his hands and go tell him off._ '

Mabel stomped to his office, righteous indignation stiffening her spine and hardening her features. She burst into his office without knocking and promptly froze. She blinked, sure she was having some kind of brain fever, because what she saw sitting on Alfie's desk, with his hands on her thighs beneath her skirt, was Hazel.

' _But_...' she thought nonsensically, ' _it's before noon_.'

"Hazel?" she asked, all anger flooding out of her and being replaced by confusion. It was definitely Hazel; she looked fantastic, her blonde hair was in this cute bob and she was wearing this cranberry colored dress that was to _die_ for, but how was she here? Why was she here? How did she know Alfie? And why were his dream-worthy hands all over her best friend?

"Oh, hey Mabe!" then she giggled. She _giggled_. "I just came down to see if I could take you to lunch, and they told me I should ask the big boss here." She fluttered her eyeslashes as she looked down at Alfie. He still hadn't moved his hands, but he did lean back in his chair and raise an eyebrow at Mabel.

Mabel blinked again. "I..." she started. She cleared her throat. "I don't normally grab lunch for a little while yet."

"Oh, s'no problem," Alfie drawled, finally dragging his hands away, albeit by the fingertips and all the way down to Hazel's knees first. "Why don't you girls take off for a while. Have a good time, yeah? Unless you needed something... _Mabe_."

Mabel felt her jaw clench again, as her eyes snapped away from his hands. Displeasure stiffened her stance, although if she were honest with herself, she didn't know if it was only one thing causing it anymore. "No, sir. Not at the moment."

"Ah." He stood and held out a hand to help Hazel to her feet. "Well, maybe another time." He held Mabel's gaze, pointedly, and she felt her cheeks flame without her consent. ' _Damn it all to hell. We WILL be having that talk, don't think you can get out of it with flirty looks and fucking my friend,_ ' she thought at him. But she thought it loudly.

Mabel held the door to Alfie's office open to let Hazel pass, and before she could escape, Alfie said, "Mabel." She turned back, reluctantly. "I'd like you to continue the new floorplan rollout. he paperwork will be on your desk when you get back."

Whatever she thought he was going to say, that wasn't really it. "Fine," she said, coolly. "Sir," she added.

He nodded. "Now..."

"Fuck off?" she guessed.

He huffed a short laugh. "Mmhm," and he gifted her one of his rare grins.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> William Foster and Co. did produce agricultural machinery in Lincoln England in 1919. It is also credited with designing and producing the first tanks, used in WWI. The managing director of Fosters of Lincoln, Sir William Tritton, was knighted for his efforts. 
> 
> In an uninteresting and completely unrelated note, I'm from Lincoln too, just a United States one, not an England one.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what the job duties of a foreman at a distillery would actually entail. Or really what the job duties of a foreman are in general.  
> Artistic liberty?  
> Too lazy for real research?  
> Too busy dreaming of Tom Hardy's hands? 
> 
> You decide.

As soon as they got to the street, Hazel turned to Mabel. "So!" she chirped happily.

"Not here," Mabel snapped. She practically dragged Hazel by the elbow to a pub around the corner where they could sit.

"Jesus, Mabe, what the hell?" Hazel complained, rubbing her elbow. "I'm not one of your employees, you don't have to show me how tough you are. Wait. Oh, Christ, did I offend you with my indelicate behavior or something? Is that what this is?! When did you get to be such a prude?"

"It's not about that. Listen, you don't know what you're getting yourself into here. You can't just..." Mabel felt all the fight drain out of her and she slumped back against the seat. "Look. You don't want to get involved with him, he's _dangerous_. I'm trying to protect you."

"Oh my sweet Lord, you ARE offended by my indelicate behavior!" Hazel laughed loudly. "Oh, I never thought I'd see the day. Wait til I tell your mother, she'll be so excited."

"Shit, Hazel," but Mabel was smiling. "Fine, whatever, do what you want, you always do. I can tell it's true love. He obviously understands you on a very deep level."

"Oh shut it, you big lout."

"Just don't expect flowers and tickets to the theatre. He'll be too busy cleaning his gun and moving illegal merchandise."

"Yeah, ok Mabe. I'll let you know when we're ready to pick out curtains."

Mabel pushed aside her irrational jealousy and snorted. "Like you would ever need to do something as mundane as picking out your own curtains."

"I'll have you know, I'm fabulous with colors. All the women in Mother's flower arranging class said so."

"Oh, God, did she actually get you to go to that!? What did you do to get cornered into attending?"

And they were off. Eventually, they got food and Mabel lost track of time while catching up. Well, so what if she took a long lunch? What Alfie didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Because she was done telling him things.

* * *

The next day she scheduled a time to talk to Alfie and wore her annoyance like battle armor. Her mind raced all morning. He'd stolen her ideas. He hadn't consulted her about the execution and essentially went out of his way to implement them without her involvement. Also, Hazel still hadn't been home by the time she had to leave for work, and she was pretty sure she knew where she'd been all night. Ok, fine. Alfie was a bastard. That's not news, she shouldn't be surprised. But...it's just that...had she been misreading everything? She thought he'd been...interested. At the very least, she thought he'd respected her, respected her work. But she knew she was lying to herself about which of those misjudgments hurt the worst. Was she really that naive to see something that wasn't there? To think she'd had a chance with her _boss_?! Her terrifying _gangster_ boss?! Good God, she needed to straighten her head out. At least some of her annoyance was reserved for herself but she really did have reasons to be annoyed with Alfie. Good ones. She reviewed her mental agenda as she headed to his office. This was important. She wasn't getting off track.

"Yeah," Alfie bellowed when she knocked. She let herself in. "Ah, Ms. Ziemann. How are you?" He seemed very...cheery. Distaste colored her mouth and she thought she might deposit her lunch on his desk. Seriously? He might as well be whistling.

"What are you doing with Hazel?" she spit out before she could regulate her brain filter.

Shit. That's not how she meant to start this conversation. She waffled between apologizing immediately and glaring while demanding an explanation. Before she could decide, Alfie spoke up.

"Well, I would have thought that was obvious," he smirked.

Now she did glare.

"I thought I would have a better chance of getting a tank from a member of the Tritton family," he stated.

Mabel stiffened involuntarily. Now she definitely was going to be sick. Fury and disgust flooded her and her hands clenched so hard it was painful.

"Ah ha. That's the reaction I was looking for. So it _was_ you. I wondered about that. Hazel didn't seem to know, or didn't want to admit she knew. There were rumors, of course, but nothing concrete. Of course, if there had been, you would probably be the one with a knighthood. Relatively speaking."

She couldn't look him in the eye anymore. Without asking, she walked past his desk to the liquor cart he kept there and poured herself a healthy helping.

"It was your idea, wasn't it?" he asked, more gently than she thought possible. "The tank?"

When the silence had stretched longer than she could take, she forced her voice not to let her down. "More or less," she said steadily.

"So which was it? More? Or less?"

She turned to look at him. He had his arms crossed, one hand stroking his beard thoughtfully. She turned back to pour him his own glass.

"The military originally asked for an armored tractor, for moving Howitzers," she said quietly, handing him the drink. He accepted it and motioned for her to sit. "I knew tractors. It just didn't occur to me to use it for anything else."

He swirled the amber liquid in front of him, letting her talk.

"I tried to kick up a fuss, to prove it was my idea when it became clear they were going to run with it but no one would take my word for it because I was a woman. I showed them my notebook with my drawings and notes, but pretty soon it wound up missing. After a while, the production took up most of my day anyway, and it was a losing battle. So, I stayed until I could save up enough for a train ticket and room and board while I found a job in London. Then when I got here, I heard about you, asked around, and then ended up on your doorstep. You've been here for the rest." She felt immeasurably tired. She hadn't told anyone except her parents, not even Hazel knew. She may have guessed, but Hazel was too smart to stop the manna from heaven. Mabel couldn't blame her, not really. But it did feel nice to say it out loud and have someone believe her.

She met Alfie's eyes and he was looking at her like she was a sunny day after a month of rain. She swallowed thickly and busied herself finishing the rest of her drink. She wasn't expecting that and wasn't quite sure how to handle it.

When she glanced at him again, he was smiling at her. An honest, full out, smile. She felt herself smiling back, and she couldn't help teasing him, "I think that trial period may be over now, though, what do you think?"

"Mmhm," he grunted approvingly. His mouth quirked at the side and he continued to look at her, his gaze warm. "Well, in that case, you'd better stop by when you get done for the day and we'll figure out your pay, yeah?"

"Yeah, boss."

* * *

The rest of the day flew. Her head felt muddled with a constant whir of ' _Alfie, Alfie, Alfie_ ' playing in the background. He'd only wanted Hazel for information. He'd been checking up on her. He believed she was capable before he even knew, and had set about finding out the truth. The knowledge warmed her in a way she knew it probably shouldn't. She felt inexplicably excited about meeting with him again, just to be in his presence and revel in his approval. He'd looked...proud. Of her. She realized it was the first time anyone had looked at her that way. Her parents loved her, of course, but they'd desperately wanted her to stop making waves and take her place. With Alfie...he looked at her like he couldn't wait to see where she'd go next. It was thrilling.

' _Dangerous, Mabe,'_ she lectured herself. Then she tried to tamp down the feeling of excitement that particular word stirred in her. Because  dangerous, Mabe. She felt herself grinning all afternoon.

When Rachel and the rest of the girls tried to cajole her into coming dancing with them, she cheerily waved them off with explanations of "too much to do" and then putzed around until everyone else had left.

In the quiet, she found her courage and decided she could be a bit dangerous too.

She knocked on Alfie's door.

"Ms. Ziemann. There you are." He was standing in front of his desk but turned as she entered.

"Oh, are we back to that? What about all the bonding we did? I don't even rate a 'Ms. Z'?" she grinned as she settled into a chair. He grinned back, sat on the edge of the desk and crossed his ankles.

"Did everyone leave you here and go fucking around without you? Isn't this the night for whatever it is you do?"

"Well, other than the fact that my boss is making me stay late..."

"Am I now?"

"Yeah. Other than that, though, there's something I'd rather be doing anyway."

"Mmhm?"

Mabel let the silence stretch out, keeping her eyes on his and slowly bit her lip.

Alfie blinked. Then he swallowed thickly. "Fuck me," he said softly to himself, an air of awe in it.

Mabel rose from the chair and stepped into his space. She watched her fingers as she ran them up the buttons of his waistcoat and whispered, "Yeah, that's the idea."

Alfie surged forward, wrapped an arm around her waist and spun them, pressing her against the desk. Mabel grasped his shoulders for balance and stood still, in the vee of his legs and let every ounce of want show in her face. Then she reached up, threading her hand through his beard, and lifted her face. Alfie crushed his mouth to hers with a growl, and she wrapped her hand around the base of his skull and held on for dear life. His tongue traced her bottom lip and she shivered as she opened for him. He ran his palms up her back and gripped the back of her brown curls before pulling her head to the side to give him better access. She couldn't stop the soft moan as his tongue breached her mouth and explored. God, he was like a thunderstorm. Big and powerful, ominous and unavoidable and she felt lightening zing down her limbs and set her on fire. She twisted her hands in his collar and pulled him closer. It wasn't enough. She needed to feel him, needed to _see_ him. She fumbled with the buttons on his waistcoat but he batted her hands away and moved to mouthing along her jaw, stopping and sucking at the point behind her ear. Then she did moan, loud and breathy in the stillness and she felt his fingers tighten on her waist. He quickly yanked the shirt from her skirt, anxious to get to skin and growling in frustration when he reached her satin chemise instead. It was her one luxury, beautiful underthings and she quickly reached behind herself to get to the zip on her skirt so he wouldn't tear anything. As her skirt pooled to the floor, he stopped long enough to look at her, peach satin brushing her thighs and garter belt holding up her hose. Alfie grinned lasciviously and brushed his fingertips along the hem of her slip and the thighs beneath.

"This? Is beautiful." Alfie breathed, grinning in her ear.

"Am I now?" Mabel teased. She tried not to sound like she was panting as she slid one booted foot out of the circle of her skirt and hooked it behind his calf, pulling them even closer. She could feel him, hard and pressing against her thigh.

At that, Alfie groaned and lifted her by the hips to slam her bum onto his paper-strewn desk. With one hand, he swept it clear, sending papers, phone, and lamp clattering to the floor and spread her thighs with the other.

' _God that was hot,'_ Mabel thought.

"Am I now?" Alfie grinned at her, and she realized she must have said it out loud. She blushed prettily and he devoured her mouth once more. He worked on opening her shirtfront and when he pulled away from her mouth to focus on the tiny buttons she quipped, "How do you still have so much paperwork on your desk when I know you give it all to me?"

"Shut the fuck up," he commanded and ripped the rest of the shirt open, scattering the remaining buttons.

"Yes, sir".

Alfie's eyes flamed with desire. Mabel attacked his mouth, both hands fisted in his hair, and he rucked her slip up past her waist. His hands dipped under the smooth material to run over acres of glorious skin, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. She broke the kiss to gasp in a sharp intake of air when he held their weight in his palms and brushed over her taught nipples. Alfie removed his hands to strip her of her shirt before lowering his head to suckle her satin covered breast. The thin material soaked up the wet heat of his mouth and when he moved to the other one, the cold brush of air over the wetness made her nipples harden even more.

With a groan, Mabel reached for the fastening on Alfie's trousers, determined to stop his slow teasing. She gasped when he dragged his teeth over her nipple, but didn't stop until she'd freed him from trousers and pants and held his not inconsiderable weight in her hand. Slowly, she stroked his hardness and was rewarded with panting of his own. Deliberately, she dragged her thumb around the head and pressed lightly into the slit.

"Fuck," Alfie panted, pulling his head back and screwing his eyes shut.

When he'd taken a deep breath and opened his eyes, she looked at him, licked her lip, and _squeezed_.

Then Alfie was a flurry of motion, an oncoming storm that had finally arrived. He grabbed her and flipped her, pressing her breasts into the desk and presenting her bottom to him like a gift. He yanked at her knickers and she helped him as best she could, both of them beyond caring about anything other than _more_ and _there_ and _now-now-now._ As soon as Mabel was free of them, Alfie slammed into her, burying his length in her heat and causing both of them to cry out.

"God, woman," Alfie grated out through clenched teeth. "You'll be the death of me."

"Alfie," she moaned, pressing back against him and sliding him even further in.

Then he began to move. He started slow, but then was relentless, pounding into her, wringing cries of pleasure out of her with each thrust. He gripped her hips fiercely and she loved it, knowing she'd see bruises from his passion for days to come. She gripped the edge of the desk, matching him thrust for thrust, and savoring the sounds he made as he slid home. All too soon, she felt the heat spiraling out of control and tried to hold on longer. Alfie seemed to sense this and reached around her to stroke her. He used her wetness to rub, pushing her closer and closer to the edge, until she was rocking against him, convulsing around him, and calling out his name. Hearing her voice seemed to undo him and his rhythm became irregular, he thrust three more times until he was pulling out fiercely and streaming ropes of cum across her back.

He leaned against her, supporting himself on his palms as their breathing slowed and they came back down to earth. Then he gently reached an arm under her, helping her to stand. He had her raise her arms and almost reverently removed her slip before using it to clean them up a bit. Then he wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her against him, her naked back against his warm, solid chest.

"Mmmhmm," he rumbled into her hair, his nose pressed into the hollow under her ear. She shuddered, still feeling the aftershocks, and closing her eyes tight, to hold on to it as long as she could.


	5. Chapter 5

She got ready slowly the next morning, barely listening to Hazel's chatter. She was up early, (well, early for Hazel anyway) because she was "so bored" from Mabel not being around the night before, and had gotten "ungodly amounts of sleep".

Mabel had thus far successfully avoided having to explain why she'd had to stay late the night before, and she felt almost guilty keeping this from her friend. They'd told each other everything for so long, but even as they grew up and apart, this still felt big. And they told each other the big things.

Except...it _was_ big, right? This was a big deal, for both her and Alfie. Wasn't it?

Alfie had been courteous, almost gentlemanly last night as he'd helped her back into her clothes, laughing about replacing her shirt and kissing her before saying he'll see her tomorrow and closing the office door behind her. She had tried to take her cues from him about how to play this. She had no illusions, she wasn't a child. But she did have to work with him every day, and an idea of what he wanted...

"Wait, what? Hazel, what did you just say?"

"I said that I was thinking about going with you to work to see Alfie again. You know, he's cute, in a scruffy, possibly homeless kind of way. Very Jewish, and you know how I appreciate cut men." Hazel winked and laughed at their longstanding joke. Mabel managed a weak smile. Hazel must have seen something on her face because she stopped and asked, "Mabe? What's wrong?"

"I just...I really don't think you should do this, Hazel. He's a criminal, and if you were smart you'd cut ties now while you still can."

"Cut ties?! Jesus, Mabel, we didn't even _kiss_. Not that I would be opposed to remedying that, mind you."

"You didn't?"

"No! What you saw is what I got. Then after I walked you back from lunch, I met that girl, Rachel? In the office? God, she's a hoot. Anyway, I talked her into leaving early since I knew Alfie would be gone, and we went to that club, the...shit, now I can't remember the name of it. Anyway, hot sexy Italian men as far as the eye can see, and all of them happy to buy a girl a drink. It was a blast! Hey, we should go again! I'll just come with you and see if Rachel-"

Mabel listened with a growing sense of dread. She interrupted Hazel with a string of expletives that proved she'd spent the last several years working with men in a factory. "You have no idea what you're doing Hazel! That club was probably owned by Sabini, who just so happens to hate Alfie's guts and wants him dead, and look at you! You just walked right in the middle of that! What if something had gone down, you could have been killed! Or worse, what if Alfie thinks you're a spy or something?"

"What?! How do you know all that?"

"Because people _talk_ , and because I _listen_ , fuckstick."

"Um, did you just call me 'fuckstick'? Because if so, that's incredible and I'm stealing it."

Mabel couldn't help but huff a laugh at her friend. She smiled, trying to soften, and took Hazel's hand. "Listen. Please. You don't have to go home, and you don't have to stop partying. Just stay away from the bakery, yeah? I'll talk to Alfie, let him know what a complete imbecile you are and how you can't possibly cause any problems on account of how you only have enough brains to drool into a handkerchief and clean up your own feces. Most of the time."

"Jeeze, thanks."

"You're welcome, dear. You know I'd do anything for you." Mabel patted her hand and turned back to her hair.

"So...what about you?"

"I'm capable of cleaning up my own feces all the time."

"Har har de har. I'm serious."

Mabel furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

"Well, ever since I got here it's, "Stay away from the bakery even though it's the most interesting place ever", and "Alfie's dangerous even though he walks like my grandfather." What about you? You're there every day, and you spend all kinds of time with him. Should I be worried about you?"

"I..." Mabel hesitated. Should she? God, maybe. What was she _doing_ here? Where could this possibly end, other than disaster? "Oh, you know me, lady. I always land on my feet."

"Sure. Until you don't."

Mabel didn't have a comeback for that.

* * *

Mabel headed in to the bakery, determined she would stay as professional as possible unless Alfie acted differently. Last night had been a flurry of flying buttons and papers, Alfie fully clothed and her...not so much. She let her mind wander, her groin aching in all the good ways. What would he be like on an actual bed? She imagined pressing him back onto it, straddling his hips and sinking down onto him, clutching his chest and riding him, unbidden-

"Oi! Ziemann! Boss wants to see ya! Double time, so's I don't get my arse kicked, yeah?"

Mabel had to clear her throat, but when she replied, her voice was steady. "Sure Travers, I'll protect you this time. But finish Vat 2, or I won't stand in his way next time, yeah?"

"You got it."

Mabel grabbed her notebook from her desk and forced herself to go over numbers in her head, production rates, down time costs, anything. By the time she reached Alfie's office she had her head on straight and was every inch the foreman he'd hired.

"Ah, Ms. Ziemann." He glanced up from where he was crouched over his desk, papers, phone and lamp all restored as if nothing had happened. "We need to go over the rest of your floor plan layout, as well as your pay rate. I'll have you roll out the rest of the move, you shouldn't hear any grumbling and if you do, I want to hear about it."

 _'So, that's how we're doing this.'_ Mabel thought, eyeing him as he continued, spectacles on nose and 100% business focused. ' _Well, good. I've got a job to do and it's not on my back. Or front.'_ She was dangerously close to blushing at that, but grit her teeth and focused on what he was saying. That is, until he reached for something and knocked a pile of papers over, scattering them across the floor. Alfie froze, staring at the mess and when he met her eyes, she knew her pupils were as blown as his.

Mabel leaned closer, her voice low in his ear, "Did you want to clear off the rest of it while you're at it?"

Alfie's blue eyes flashed and he gave her a look that sent heat pooling in her belly. Without warning, he launched himself out of his chair and backed her into the far wall, pressing her there. His hands were desperate, running over everything he could touch while their mouths met hungrily, all sliding tongues and flashing teeth. He groaned, and she hitched her leg over his hip and arched into him.

He tore his mouth free long enough to pant into her mouth, "Fuck, woman. What have you done to me."

"Shh." Mabel pressed two fingers against his lips, and used her other hand to move her skirts out of the way. Alfie sucked her fingers into his mouth, running his tongue over the pads and she closed her eyes, tongue and teeth worrying her bottom lip. He ran his hands up her thighs, over her bum until he was lifting her and she wrapped her legs around him. The movement brought his very evident need brushing against her and she gasped, gripping his shoulders and bucking her hips against his. He returned the movement, the delicious friction of cloth on cloth heightening her senses and she could hear her pulse pounding in her ears.

He moved one hand to cup her face, kissing her deeply while he set her down. He helped her shimmy out of her knickers and then fumbled at his trousers, not wanting to stop kissing long enough to do it properly. She managed to get his waistcoat unbuttoned and pull his thick shirt up enough to run her hands over the taught muscles on his stomach and up to clutch his back. Finally, he pushed his trousers and pants to the floor and hooked an arm under her knee, pulling it to her chest. She wrestled yards of fabric out of his way until he could rest his warm length against her opening. A small whimper escaped her in anticipation.

"Shh," he told her. And then slowly slid into her.

God, he was glorious. She arched into him, letting him set a furious pace, her short nails leaving tracks under his shirt. His height caused him to be at the perfect angle, brushing her clitoris each time he slid into her. She buried her face in his neck, licking and sucking and breathing in his scent. The way he could wind her up, faster than anyone, ever, drove her crazy. She _needed_ , she _wanted_ , she _demanded_...

Vaguely, as if from another room, she heard the telephone on his desk begin to jangle.

"If you stop now, I swear to God..." she panted.

"Shut...fuck...nngh!"

"Yes...ah!...yes, sir." she obliged, before losing all ability for thought. Her vision whited out, and she thrust against him wildly, chasing her orgasm. The ringing phone mingled with her soft cries until Alfie's mouth covered hers, drinking in the sounds of her pleasure. Then he was there too, her muscles quaking around him, and she held him as he rode it out, fingertips bruising, heavy breaths mingling with hers until she couldn't tell where hers stopped and his began.

He rested his damp brow on her shoulder as he came down, letting her leg slide down his but keeping her supported against the wall. She was grateful, because she was pretty sure she couldn't stand just yet. She tipped her head back against the wall and waited for her breathing to slow and for her thighs to quit shaking.

"Holy fuck," she breathed. "That was..."

"Yeah." Alfie grinned wide, his teeth on full display. Mabel soaked up the sight of his smile, wishing she could box it up for a rainy day.

He moved away, straightening clothing and she ran a hand over her damp curls, fairly certain there was no chance she could appear like she hadn't just been having sex against the wall. She went through the motions anyway, recovering her underthings and attempting to smooth the wrinkles in her skirt with her fingers. "We should try that sometime without our shoes on," she quipped lightly, trying to cover her self-consciousness.

Alfie stilled, glancing at her again. He stooped to gather the scattered papers, and when he straightened, his face showed determination.

"This isn't..." he began. "This isn't anything other than what it is, yeah?"

Mabel's smile faltered for a heartbeat, then it was back, with greater brilliance. "Yeah. Boss. 'Course."

Alfie held her gaze. "I don't do...that. I mean, I can't be seen as..." He tried again. "I just need you to..."

"Fuck off?" Mabel supplied.

Pain flashed briefly in his eyes, but he looked down at his desk and murmured, "Mmhm."

She knew the way to the door.


	6. Chapter 6

When she reached the bakery the next day, there was no sign of Alfie. No one had heard anything, but Ollie was there off and on, so she figured he'd be back soon. Ollie notified her she was in charge of the bakery until Alfie got back, which warmed her with pride, but drew a flat look from Ollie himself.

She immersed herself in the work. That's why she was here. She enjoyed being busy, she liked the people she worked with. Rachel was fun, Abe was great to talk to, and there was a never-ending deluge of paperwork in case she was looking for a good time.

The changes she'd made were well-received by the crew. Simple layout changes to the floor increased productivity, eliminated waste, and allowed crew members to interact with each other more, which led to better morale. She wasn't a gangster, but she was _good at this_.

She managed a peek at the books (since she was 'in charge' and all), made a few notes about ways to reinvest the potentially increased revenue, and vowed to have a real, grown-up conversation with Alfie when he got in, completely professional and not ending in sex.

Except he wasn't there the next day either. Or the next. Or the next. Eventually, Hazel had to go back home to Lincoln, and Mabel focused on getting as much done as possible before Alfie came back. At least during the day. If at night, alone in her bed, she decided that Alfie's hands were less dream-worthy and more fantasy-worthy, well, no one needed to know.

On the fifth day he was gone, she received a package in the mail. Mrs. F was practically giddy when she recognized the fancy dressmakers mark on the package and fluttered around Mabel's elbow while she gazed numbly at it. She refused to appear as anything more than neutral and she retired to her room to open it. It contained two things, a new slip, silk this time and a pale lavender, as well as a _beautiful_ new shirtwaist. She gaped at the extravagant article of clothing in front of her. She knew she'd never wear it, ever, and could scarcely touch the soft white material and tiny opalescent buttons, afraid she'd snag it with her work-roughened fingers. She allowed herself one small stroke of a fingertip against the impossibly smooth seams and one tear as she replaced the paper and lid and stored it all under the bed. The tear slid down her cheek, trembled on the edge of her upper lip, and she licked it away. The salty taste stayed much longer than she'd anticipated.

Ollie continued to drop in and out and made a point to seek her out as much as possible. She'd assumed he was keeping an eye on her and reporting to Alfie, but she found herself getting tense whenever she saw him. He was constantly in her space, touching her wrist or her waist, changing the subject to ask her what kind of music she liked, or did she ever go get gelato. Ugh. She was no stranger to men who assumed she was obtainable, she'd been a foreman in a factory for _years_ , for God's sake. But Ollie was not taking her very blatant hints. Even if she wasn't with Alfie ( _Was she? Was she_ _with_ _Alfie? Would she really call it that? Would_ _he_ _really call it that?),_ Ollie definitely wasn't her type. Sure, he was handsome enough, but he bumbled, he was constantly nervous and sweaty, and he was _boring_. Holy hell, was he boring.

So when Rachel asked if she'd like to go dancing that night, she only had one question. "Is Milquetoast coming too? Because he won't take a hint." Rachel laughed and said if she wasn't there at quitting time they were leaving her workaholic arse and she wouldn't feel bad about it because it was for her own good. She really needed to learn how to prioritize, she told Mabel with a grin.

Mabel flashed a tired smile. She was desperately looking forward to going out. She missed Hazel, and...dancing. Yes. Hazel. And dancing. It would be good to be around people, let loose and remind herself how to have fun. Her shoulders unhitched slightly from her ears, and she granted herself a shoulder roll and a small sigh.

At quitting time, Mabel gathered her purse and hat and hoped Rachel wasn't quite as strict as she threatened because she was running a few minutes behind. She was shutting off the lamp on her desk when she heard a low voice in the dark behind her, sliming its way up her spine and curling oily in her ear.

"So. Milquetoast, huh?"

Mabel's hands stilled as she took a deep breath and tried to remember the placement of possible weapons on her desk.

She sensed movement behind her and spun, using the motion to cover her hand groping behind her, searching for something, anything, that would take away the flutter of helplessness worming its way under her breastbone. Nothing. She kept her desk far too clean, she decided.

Ollie stood there, too close and too angry for comfort. Mabel's mind raced, searching for the right word or phrase that would defuse him and end what was fast becoming a nightmare. The static in her head, though, was only letting through completely useless thoughts like, ' _Why don't_ _I own a letter opener? Like a big scary one that resembles a knife or maybe a sword? What have I been using to open letters this whole time?"_

"Ollie, thank goodness, I was hoping to talk to you about some ideas I had. You know, before Alfie comes back."

"Shut up, you stupid cunt." Ollie's voice was low, his face shadowed in the dim light.

Mabel felt herself bristle and then tried to remind herself how ridiculous it was in this situation for that phrase to cause anger instead of fear. It was just that she'd been hearing it for years, and it never failed to raise her hackles. It had caused her a few fights in the past, especially once people realized they could use it to push her buttons. Ok, fine, cunt was technically accurate, but she was not _stupid_. Fucking MEN.

She glared at him. "What do you want, Ollie?"

"I want you to SHUT. UP!" He slammed his hand on the desk next to her and she jumped.

' _Ok, anger gone. Fear is effectively on the job,'_ her brain babbled interminably. _'_ _Think_ _girl. Get farther away, give yourself some space.'_

She shifted to the left and tried to think of something that would get him talking. Preferably without talking herself. She fluttered her hand up to her face and pressed it to her mouth. Letting huge tears well in her eyes, she looked pleadingly at Ollie.

"You think you're better than me. DON'T YOU?!" he erupted. "After years of loyalty, and scraping and running back and forth across the entire bloody city just because he says so, you walk in with different equipment between your legs and now you're the new favorite."

Mabel was taken aback. ' _Well, that's new.' "_ Did he really say that?" she questioned before she could stop herself.

Ollie's backhand caught her across the cheekbone. Stars burst across her vision and she staggered sideways.

"SHUT! UUUUUP!" Spittle flew from his lips and his face purpled in rage.

Mabel's head swam, but not enough to stop her from realizing that his blow had knocked her far enough that she was now between him and the door. When he rounded on her, fists clenched and looking for a target, she turned and fled.

She only had a vague idea of where she was headed, a thought half-formed in the back of her head. ' _Get somewhere safe. Find a weapon. Fight back.'_ She headed to Alfie's office.

Ollie was right on her heels, and she couldn't stop the scream that burbled out of her as every monster from every bad dream she'd ever had chased her down the hallway. When she barreled inside and tried to slam the door behind her, he slapped it back open and pushed his way in. Mabel backed up quickly, hands behind her back. Real tears fell unheeded down her face now. He advanced at a slower pace, knowing she was trapped, a lewd grin stretching his normally passive face.

"I'm going to fuck you. And then I'm going to fuck you up. And you can scream for one or both, but you will scream. Oooooh, yes. You will scream. We'll just have to see if you scream 'stop' or 'don't stop', but doesn't matter to me." He started unfastening his trousers slowly, enjoying the fear he saw on her face.

Mabel inched backward as he talked, her heartbeat loud in her ears, her breath wrenched out of her painfully. Finally, _finally_ , she felt the corner of the desk gouge her in the thigh. Scrambling silently, she reached for the drawer, using her skirts to hide her hand. Whimpering noisily to cover the sound, she eased it open, searching blindly for the gun she knew was there.

' _There it is!'_ Her adrenaline surged and she stopped Ollie mid-step by drawing the gun and pointing it in his face.

"Stop. Stop where you are, and don't touch me." Her voice wavered, and so did the gun, but she looked him in the eye and wrapped her finger around the trigger.

Ollie hesitated, unsure. Then that awful smile split his face again and he took another step her way. "You don't know how to use that, girlie. Do you. You haven't got a CLUE!"

With that, Ollie lunged for her and she squeezed her eyes shut as a gunshot rang through the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhh! Cliffhangers! Don't hate me.


	7. Chapter 7

Mabel's hands shook so badly the gun dropped from her fingers. Ollie pitched sideways to the floor, and in the doorway stood Alfie, the gun in his hands still smoking. His face was terrifying.

Mabel's eyes sought his and she couldn't get enough air. "I couldn't...I couldn't! I couldn't do it, why couldn't I do it?"

Then he was there, gathering her in his arms as she fell apart. He held her, stroking her back and murmuring shushes and nonsense into her hair while she sobbed into his chest.

She cried until she ran out of air. Then she clutched him manically and breathed in the scent of soap and sweat and Alfie. She didn't know if it was minutes or hours, but he held her close and didn't let go.

Eventually, her breathing slowed and she pulled back, forcing herself to look at the floor. Ollie lay unblinking in a spattering of brain matter and an ever-widening pool of his own blood, his dick still jutting obscenely from his pants. Mabel shuddered and looked away.

Alfie watched her carefully, rubbing his hands up and down her arms.

"He..." Mabel started, then licked her lips and tried again. "He could have killed me."

"It's alright. You're alright, love."

Oddly, the endearment made her feel like crying again, but she bit her lip and refused to let any more tears fall. She took a breath, wiped her cheeks and met Alfie's eyes.

The concern she saw there was overwhelming.

"There you are. I knew you were in there somewhere." He circled an arm around her shoulders and steered her away from the blood and towards the door. "Come on. Let's go."

"But...what about..." She couldn't bring herself to finish the thought, not yet.

"You let me take care of it, yeah? Come on, come with me."

She let herself be herded down the stairs and into the car at the curb. Alfie started the engine and pulled away, and she felt exhaustion leech all remaining will and thought and she slumped into the window, listlessly watching the streets roll by. Eventually, Alfie pulled up outside a mid-size home, all darkened windows and arched doorways, and climbed out of the car.  
She followed him, a furrow between her brows. She'd assumed he was taking her to the boarding house.

Oh, GOD, the boarding house! Ollie's mother! The realization struck her with an almost physical blow. Oh god, oh how would she ever been able to walk into that house again, never mind face her. She was the reason her son was dead. She was the reason a person was dead. Her stomach lurched threateningly and she stumbled. She paused until she was sure her lunch was staying where it was supposed to before continuing into the house. She vaguely heard Alfie talking, his hand on the small of her back guiding her, but she could only focus on remaining upright and placing one foot in front of the other.

She followed him hazily, laying down where he pointed and curling her face into a pillow. She looked up blearily when she felt him tugging at her feet and realized he was working the laces to remove her boots.

"Hey, you're taking off my shoes," she said, sounding surprised.

He smiled at her. "Next time we'll both take ours off, yeah?"

"Mmhm," she replied, her eyes already drifting closed and she felt herself tumble into sleep.

* * *

"Och! You! Get up, ye dighted lass! Come on!"

Mabel felt something sharp poking her in the ribs. She cracked her eyelids and immediately slammed them shut again. The sun shone through curtains which had been flung wide. The brash woman jammed the broomstick at the mound in the bed again and let loose a round of barely distinguishable English.

"Ah dinnae ken if yer oot yer face or aft yer heid, but ye get up right now! Come on!"

Mabel groaned. "All right, all right. I'm up, Mum!"

That stopped the tirade. She left the room muttering, slamming the door on her way out.

Mabel hauled herself to a sitting position slowly. She was lying on top of the duvet still fully clothed (minus her boots), but an afghan had been tucked carefully around her. She was in a fairly large bedroom, sparsely but tastefully decorated, the bed wide and deep. She thought longingly of stretching back out and going back to sleep. But she rubbed the ribs that would definitely be sporting broomstick handle shaped bruises later and sighed.

She spent a minute at the wash basin, scrubbing dried tears and sweat from her face and neck as best she could. Her wrinkled clothes could not be helped, but she tidied her hair and generally tried not to look half as miserable as she felt.

She set off to find Alfie. The house wasn't small, but it wasn't huge either, and eventually she'd searched every room but the kitchen with no sign of him. It was obviously his house, judging by the bedroom, and it was just as obvious that he was the only one living here, judging by how the other bedroom had been set up as an office. Mabel sighed again and went to face the battle-axe in the kitchen.

"Out ye gang, lassie. Go on!" was the first thing she hooted at her, flapping a dish cloth and glowering like Mabel was a naughty puppy who'd just wet the rug.

"Right, I will, I just...Have you seen Mr. Solomons? Do you know where he is?"

The woman crossed her arms and stared Mabel down.

"Right. I'll just...sorry, where am I? Please?"

Now it was the older woman's turn to sigh. She whipped the dishcloth onto her shoulder, whooshed past Mabel without a word and moved to the phone in the sitting room. Mabel watched her call for a cab and then marched back to the kitchen without a backwards glance. She heard noises that sounded suspiciously like an actual battle-axe being used to chop vegetables. Or a regular axe, but swung more forcefully.

She waited quietly in one of the chairs, fidgeting until she heard the trill of the cab horn.

"Um...thank you!" she called towards the kitchen. She heard a faint, "Humph!" and let herself out.

She gave the cabbie the address for the bakery because she didn't know where else to go. It was embarrassingly close to lunchtime to be starting work for the day, but since Broomhilda hadn't woken her any earlier, she supposed Alfie knew she'd be late.

When she got in she was greeted by Abe, who asked her what she was doing there.

"I'm...working?" she replied.

"'Course, right, s'just Mr. Solomons said you'd be out today."

"Oh. Right. Well, is he in? I'd like to have a word anyway."

"Sure, he's in the back. Ollie'll...I mean, I'll walk you down."

Mabel tried not to stiffen too much. "Ollie?" she asked, only mildly breathless, trying to cover it by taking the stairs quickly.

"Oh, he's actually...uh...going to be moving. Wanted to be closer to his mum, you know how it is when they're gettin' older. So he's gettin' another job. Won't be around much anymore."

She stilled. "Closer to his mum."

At that, Abe stopped. He peeked to make sure he wasn't overheard and lowered his voice. "Listen, Mabel, sometimes 'round here it's better not to ask too many questions. S'just I don't want you to get involved in anything...not really havin' to do with the bakery," he finished lamely.

"Oh." Mabel let that wash over her. "Right."

Abe wove her through the labyrinth of barrels until they spotted Alfie. He was pointing at a barrel, haggling with Travers over something until he spotted her. He broke off mid-sentence and called, "What the fuck're you doin' here? Here, you two, fuck off." The other two men scurried away and he shuffled towards her.

He cleared his throat. "You're alright, yeah?"

"Well, aside from your warm and welcoming housekeeper waking me up with a broom, yeah. I'm ok."

Alfie tried not to laugh, and he almost succeeded. "Rowena? Och, she's harmless," he said with a thick Scottish brogue.

"Yeah, tell that to my ribs. I think she dented me."

His smile softened. "As long as that's the worst of your injuries, I'll take it, yeah?"

The silence stretched between them as she let that sink in, hoping...

Alfie reached up to cup her jaw, stroking his thumb over her cheek. Then, slowly, broadcasting his every move, he leaned in and brushed his lips over her cheekbone. The slight flare of pain reminded her that Ollie had backhanded her, viciously. She'd forgotten. In light of everything else, she'd forgotten that he'd laid a hand on her first. She'd been panicking inwardly that if she'd only said something else, or screamed sooner, or run faster, that she could have controlled this. That it wouldn't have gotten out of hand, that Ollie would still be here, and she'd be able to look his mother in the eye, that she'd be able to look _herself_ in the eye.

She had no idea what he was seeing as he pulled away to search her face, but on his she saw a swarm of emotions flash by so fast it made her dizzy. She wanted _so_ badly for this to go away, for it to have never happened.

She allowed herself three more seconds of self-pity, and then made a decision.

' _This isn't going away, ever.'_ she told herself. It happened, she couldn't undo it. She wasn't even sure she wanted to. _'You're going to have to learn how to deal with this.'_

She looked at Alfie, really looked. He was watching her, waiting. There was concern in his gaze, but even so, beneath that he was calm and sure of himself. He knew who he was, he made no pretenses otherwise and no apologies for how he lived his life. He handled crises with nothing but a raised eyebrow, crises that would make other men weep and he didn't lose sleep at night.

Who the fuck wouldn't want that?

Mabel moved into Alfie's arms and hugged him, hard, and then backed away. "Thank you," she said, holding his gaze so he'd know she meant it. And she did mean it, with every fiber of her being.

He gazed at her steadily. Then he scratched his beard and said, "Well, I think you're over-personalizing this, mate. I mean, he's fuckin' useless in negotiations and I'd been looking for the right day to let him go, so, you know, this was really as good a time as any." Then he gifted her one of his rare Alfie grins.

Mabel couldn't help it. She felt the corner of her mouth twitch and she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Listen," he continued. "I did some digging, 'kay. And I found a decent hotel, says you can pay by the week, yeah? And I may or may not have gotten you a really good deal on the rate. So. I can have one of the boys grab your things and you can stay until you find something better, right?"

"Really? You did all that...already?"

"'Course I did. I'm a fuckin' miracle worker. And you're not gonna go back there. 'S fuckin' ridiculous."

Mabel studied her feet. "Thank you," she said quietly. It was the second time she'd said it to him, ever, and she tried to remember if she'd ever been more grateful for any two things in her life.

"Mmhm. Now, here's the address..." he said, grabbing a pencil stub and a scrap of paper from his pocket and scratching on it. "And I don't wanna see you here for the rest of the day. Yeah? You get out of here, go on."

"Yeah, boss." Then, not letting herself over-think it, she leaned in and kissed him, brief but heated. Before he could respond, she spun on her heel and headed out.


	8. Chapter 8

Alfie was staring at the new rug in his office like he wasn't seeing it, oddly still without his usual bluster. She hesitated before knocking on the open door's frame.

He didn't glance up at the knock, kept his feet propped on the desk and turned back to the papers in his hand. "Yeah."

Mabel lowered herself into the chair opposite him. "What did you want to do about that Harrington shipment? It's backing up all our other orders."

"Oh, fuck me. Tha's not really why you came in here, is it? You do this stuff in your sleep."

She paused, trying to figure out how best to approach him, and started with, "I noticed the pay raise. We never did discuss it, but I wanted you to know I appreciate it. It's very appropriate."

"Appropriate?! I was gonna say, 'generous'," he looked at her over his glasses.

"I was going to say, 'earned'."

"Mmhm." he grunted, arching an eyebrow at her.

She changed the subject. "I wasn't here on your first day back, I just wanted to check...hopefully you got what you needed? Nothing really to report while you were gone, but I hadn't prepared anything."

"Yeah, it's all sorted." Alfie tossed his glasses on the desk and watched her, warily. He was doing that thing again, like he could see inside her head even when she felt like she didn't know what was going on in there.

She paused, knowing how stupid it was and then saying it anyway. "So...are you gonna tell me where you were?"

Ah. There it was. Alfie put his boots on the ground, his eyes hard and unflinching. "No."

She nodded, expecting that. "Why?" There was no malice in her tone, simply curiosity.

His voice was light, but his eyes never left hers. His carefully constructed mask of 'jovial madman' was firmly in place, but his jaw clenched. "Cuz you don't need to know. Cuz someone comes round here, right, and asks where I was...you says you don't know cuz no one tells you cuz you don't need to know. Yeah?"

She considered this, then said simply, "Ok."

Alfie faltered. "Ok? Just ok?"

"Just ok."

"Right." He waited. She swallowed before kicking open a door that couldn't really be shut again.

She picked at a non-existent thread on her skirt. "So, are you going to buy a new car?"

"Am I..." Alfie looked stunned. "I dunno, am I?"

"I think you should."

Alfie's eyes glittered dangerously. "You think I should." He sat back in his chair, folding his hands across his stomach. "And why's that now?"

She met his gaze calmly. "Because after you gave me a ride, I noticed you weren't able to get all the blood off the seat."

"Mmhm." Alfie's hand drifted to toy with his desk drawer, almost absentmindedly, his gaze heavy on hers.

Mabel's heart rate spiked slightly. She wondered if she'd finally pushed him too far because she had no idea what he was thinking. ' _Well, I'm sick of guessing. Let's find out where we stand.'_

"Listen, little girl," he said, and she tried not to bristle, as that was his obvious intent. 

Alfie stroked his beard with the hand not on his desk drawer and became dangerously aloof. "My business? Is my fuckin' business. You don't get to be in it just because you want to be. When I said, 'You don't need to know'? I meant, 'You don't get to know.' Now, fuck off."

Mabel stayed put. "No."

Alfie bristled and made as if to stand.

"I meant, I _don't_ want to know," Mabel said quickly. "I don't want to know more than you want me to, I just wanted you to know how much I know."

Alfie stayed in his chair, tense and unmoving.

"I don't like games, not about this, not with you. You play all you want with other people, I don't care. But I'm not here for anything but...the bakery," she finished, hesitatingly.

Alfie could have been cut from marble, except she could practically hear the gears whirring in his head as he picked up and discarded a hundred options and angles.

' _This. This is what I don't want. I don't want him to do this with me.'_

"I won't lie to you. Not little lies or half lies. I want to be able to say 'I don't know' when I'm not supposed to know, and if I find out anyway, it just...seems like you might need to know that too." she ended quietly. She was starting to doubt the intelligence of her actions. Alfie had been able to get a new rug in less than 24 hours. She was sure it wouldn't take much to get another one.

He removed his hand from the drawer and steepled them in front of his face. He scratched his beard. He furrowed his brow. Then he reached for the drawer again. Mabel stiffened, eyes glued to his hand.

She watched it emerge with a whiskey bottle and then two glasses which he placed on the desk, wordlessly. He poured a measure for each of them, placing the bottle back in the drawer, and took up his glass, waiting for her to take hers. She did, slowly. They drank in silence, taking their time, their eyes meeting occasionally over the desk.

They stayed that way, sipping their whiskeys until Mabel gathered her skirts and stood, replacing the glass on the desk. Alfie drank his last swallow, rolling it in his mouth.

"I'll see you tomorrow, boss."

"Mmhm."

* * *

But Mabel didn't see Alfie the next day, although she did hear him yelling at one point. The pool was still going strong, and she debated trying to get Alfie to go in on it with her. She would split it with him 70/30 since it was her idea. She grinned, imagining how that proposal would go down. She'd be lucky to leave without owing him money when all was said and done.

The day after that, though, she had a meeting across town with one of their glass merchants, who seemed to be having problems delivering the materials in one piece. Previous telephone conversations hadn't produced results, and Mabel thought there wasn't anything to be lost by meeting in person and explaining how things ran in Alfie's town.

When she got there, the blowhard made her wait for 25 minutes before having his secretary show her in, even though she knew for a fact that the bakery was their largest customer. So Mabel's stores of patience were fairly depleted from the get-go, which is why she felt she really wasn't to blame for everything that happened.

Mr. E. Mesnard was a heavy-set man, with a sweaty roll of skin resting above his pinched collar, and his very fine waistcoat stretching over his obscenely large belly. She glared at the watch chain flashing at his waist that would probably pay all her bills for a month.

"Well, well, Missy! What can I do for you?" He grinned down at her condescendingly, like he was humoring his granddaughter.

"You can stop fucking up our orders and start doing the job we pay you to do, quite handsomely too, if I remember correctly Mr. Mesnard."

"Oh, my! Such _language_! Well, I never! Surely you don't talk that way all the time. Why, it's unseemly for a lady to speak in such a way!"

"The way I speak, sir, is not the issue here. I expect the last two shipments to be replaced, in full and at no cost, and if it is done by the end of the week, we will consider continuing our business relationship with Canning Town Glass Works, Ltd. If not, the shipments should still be sent anyway, that we can use said bottles to drink to your continuing good health. If we don't have the bottles, we won't be able to. Toast your continuing good health, that is. Which would be a shame. So really, it would be in your best interest to get that taken care of, and quickly."

"Well! My, my, my. That was an awful lot of words, little lady. Here, I tell you what! Why don't you just have your boss come down here, and we'll just talk it over, man to man. We'll make sure everything gets worked out, don't you worry about a thing."

"My...boss," she said flatly.

"Hm? Oh, yes, you know, your supervisor. You just let him know and we'll get together. Let him know I can meet him for drinks, there's a good lass."

God, what she wouldn't give to see Alfie get a hold of him. Actually...

"Actually, Mr. Mesnard, my boss is available right now. If I can borrow your phone, I'll just speak to him immediately and see if we can set that up."

"Hm? Oh, sure, sure, sure. Here you go...you just lift this piece here, and speak into this part."

' _Holy shitting fuck, SERIOUSLY?!'_

"Gosh, it sure is fancy! I've never used one of these here gadgets before." Mabel glared as she grabbed the handset, asked the operator for Alfie's number, and waited for him to answer.

_"Yeah?"_ she heard on the other end.

"Oh, Mr. Solomons, I'm so glad you're there!" Mabel gushed, letting an emotional tremor sneak into her tone. Mesnard blanched at the mention of Alfie's name.

_"Mabel? 'Sat you? The fuck's wrong with you?"_ Alfie asked.

_"_ Oh, nothing, sir, nothing's wrong. Except, well...you remember how I went to Canning Town like you asked me?" Mabel's voice oozed innocence and she widened her eyes, glancing at Mesnard.

_"When the fuck did I ask you to do that? What are you on about?"_

"Well, I'm here, and it's just that...well, Mr. Mesnard's not being very nice to me." Mabel made sure to sound extra hurt.

Mesnard started shaking his head quickly, trying to catch her eye.

Silence filled the air on the other end. Mabel carried on her half of the conversation anyway.

"Oh, no, Mr. Solomons, nothing like that. No, no, honestly that won't be necessary, I wouldn't want anything to happen to...Hmm? No, I definitely wouldn't want him to _personally_ get hurt." Mesnard was definitely looking pale now.

_"Oh, we're doing that game, eh?"_ Alfie laughed. He actually laughed, a genuine sound of surprise and delight barking from his throat. Mabel warmed from her head to her toes, and she clamped down on the urge to smile into the handset.

"Well, of course not, silly. He's not being _that_ mean." Mabel started to wrap the cord around her finger.

_"Well, since I'm just sitting here anyway...did I ever tell you about the time I hired this brunette wench to be my foreman?"_ Alfie teased. _"Gooooood looking gal, had these legs that could wrap around you...mmhm. Like warm taffy."_

Mabel's mouth dropped and she must have made some small sound because Mesnard started whispering frantically, pleading. Mabel shushed Mesnard silently, gesturing to the phone to show he was still talking. Out loud she said, "Oh, no, I wouldn't want anything like _that_ to happen to him, sir."

_"There was this one time, God, I remember it like it was yesterday, when she came in here, and I set her up on my desk, right?"_

"Uh huh...go on."

She could hear Alfie's grin through the phone. _"She was wearing this little peach number...it was fuckin' magnificent. So, she comes in here and I spread her out on my desk, yeah?"_

"Mr. Solomons, I'm sure you can think of a better way to take care of things than that. It sounds dangerous, we don't want anyone to get hurt."

_"Oh, believe me, it was the_ _ best _ _way to take care of things. Because there she was, her gorgeous thighs were open, and she wanted it so bad. You should have heard her, she was begging for it."_

"N…no, he's right here, sir." Mabel faltered. She swallowed thickly. In front of her, Mesnard was sweating profusely, his eyes starting to look panicky.

_"Begging for it. So I take it out. And she can't believe her eyes, right? I mean, it is a thing of beauty, it really is. You'd say so too, I know you would."_

"I would say...girthy." Mabel eyed Mesnard and he backed up, shocked and insulted but afraid to show it.

And Alfie's laugh rang out loud and full. Mesnard couldn't take it any longer. "Why is he laughing? What's he saying? Tell him I didn't mean anything by it. I DIDN'T MEAN ANYTHING BY IT MR. SOLOMONS!" he hollered towards the mouthpiece.

"No, it's ok Mr. Solomons, I'll let him know. You don't need to come down, honest."

_"Get your arse back here when you're done, wench. We'll go another round, yeah?"_

"Yeah, boss." Mabel hung up, her cheeks flaming and her tongue sore from biting it.

Mesnard looked like his heart was about to give out. He was standing behind his desk, his sweaty hair hanging limply on his forehead and his pleading gaze focused on Mabel's face.

"Mr. Mesnard...I spoke to Mr. Solomons. He said...well, he said a lot of things, but the bottom line is that he's agreed to let you replace twice the amount of the last two shipments, and he will use his generosity to make sure that things go smoother in the future."

"Oh! Oh, thank you Miss!" he sagged visibly, his eyes closing briefly. "Yes, yes, that's just fine, please be sure to thank Mr. Solomons for me. From all of us, actually. All of us here at Canning Town. Not just a one-man venture you know. Very vital to the local economy. Lots of families depending on us and all that."

"Yes, fine." Mabel clipped her words, already collecting her purse and hat. "Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Mesnard. I look forward to working with you in the future. I can show myself out."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love to my fabulous betas! They are the best, and you should all be jealous they aren't at your beck and call.

Alfie looked up as he heard her knock. Instead of her normal work get-up, she was wearing the mint-green dress she wore when he'd first met her. He felt a surge of annoyance at Mesnard, for getting to see her this way and for not appreciating it. The man was obviously an idiot, and Alfie decided then and there to destroy him.

Alfie pushed his chair back from his desk, but that's as far as he got before Mabel strode briskly over and plopped herself on his desk in front of him. Then she crossed her legs prettily, one mint green shoe nudging his knee. She was grinning happily as she removed her hat and hat pin and set them on the desk next to her.

"You'll never guess what happened at work today," she teased.

Alfie returned her grin. "Good day, eh?"

"The best. I told Mesnard in order to make it up to you, you want him to replace those last two shipments twice over, and he almost fell down trying to thank me enough."

Alfie had his own ideas about what it would take to make it up to him, but he let it go for now. She was so proud of herself, he wasn't going to tarnish it.

"What will I ever do with all the extra money you made me today?"

"Well, I haven't had a raise in almost a whole month," she said flippantly. Then she placed her feet on his chair, one on either side of him. "So," she grinned, "warm taffy, huh?"

"Mmhm," he said appreciatively, sweeping his broad hands over her ankles, calves and knees and pushing her dress up with them. He traced small circles with his thumbs, enjoying the softness of her hose before pushing the hem of her skirt even higher. His fingertips explored, up and up, reaching the edge of garters and then sliding over smooth skin. When her inching dress revealed the edge of her chemise, Alfie made a small, tsk-ing noise as he fingered the soft, white cotton and delicate lace.

"Where is the one I bought?" he asked, skating his fingers over her inner thighs and ghosting ever closer to the heat radiating from between her legs. He'd been thinking about her wearing it, the image had kept him up at night. Now he wanted to know how it compared to the real thing.

Mabel's voice was breathy as she pulled him forward and worked the buttons on his shirt.

"I'm saving it for a special occasion."

Their breaths mingled, and his eyes watched her mouth. "What occasion?" he rumbled, his voice impossibly low. He watched her shiver in reaction, and she said, "I thought I'd wear it for our first time with no shoes." Cheeky girl.

He kissed her, hard, and pulled her into his lap. She made a soft "Mmph!" sound against his mouth as she landed and Alfie wanted to touch everything, memorize the way she felt straddling him. He ran his hands down her legs to where he could thumb her shoes off her heels, sending them clattering to the floor. Mabel's lips paused on his for a heartbeat, and then she kissed him, hot and frantic, licking into his mouth. He growled when she bit his bottom lip, grasping her bum and kneading her. He kissed along her jaw, trapping her earlobe in his teeth and sucking until she moaned.

Her hands scrabbled to push his braces and shirt off his shoulders and as soon as he was free, his hands delved under her dress to remove her knickers. He closed his mouth on the pulse point beneath her ear, knowing she loved it and knowing the suction would mark her. He knew that he'd see it later and remember the breathy high-pitched noises she was making in his ear right now.

Mabel ran her hands possessively over his warm skin, the hair curling softly under her fingertips. His stomach muscles clenched as she followed it down and he huffed out a quick breath. Mabel stilled.

"Are you...are you ticklish?!" she squeaked with delight.

"Oi! Shut the fuck up!"

Mabel giggled and kissed him and he let her feel his answering smile against her lips before he traced them with his tongue and delved into her mouth. She tasted like tea, and honey, and sunshine, and want.

Mabel arched into him, rocking their hips together and pressing his length between them. She set a rhythm, moaning with the friction and ratcheting them up from simmer to boil.

"I need you," Mabel gasped against him.

"Yes," he growled and wrapped his arms around her and stood up to sit her gently on the desk. He roughly shoved his clothes down and she tilted her hips up to wrap her warm taffy legs around his waist. "God, yes."

Alfie used one hand to cup her breast through the fabric of her dress and the other to slip between her legs to test her readiness. He found her wet and wanting and spread her to accept him. He entered her in one smooth strong stroke, driving a cry from her lungs that he captured in a kiss. His hips started to move and he drank in her moans, her need feeding his.

"Gngh, that's good," he groaned.

When Alfie tried to slow down, make it last, Mabel cinched her legs tighter and refused to let him. He wanted to draw out the furious pace she'd come to expect, but she was close, he could tell, and he whispered in her ear, his voice dark and rumbling, "Come for me, love."

Mabel cried out as she spasmed around him, throwing her head back and seeing stars. Alfie pistoned into her, his thrusts becoming frantic and erratic until he was groaning, lost, his face buried in her neck. Afterward, he panted, he breaths slowing in time with hers and then he kissed his way up her neck, tasting her, sweat, and sin, and sweetness. God, she was perfect. He kissed her mouth, eyes shut tight, and when she pulled away and whispered, "Alfie?" he kept them closed and just shook his head.

* * *

Alfie twirled his walking stick calmly in his hands, relaxed and nonchalant in the chair across from Mesnard. Abe sat next to him, a little nervous, but Alfie figured that was to be expected on his first run. And actually, he still seemed to be less sweaty than Ollie ever was. And definitely less sweaty than Mesnard.

"Right, so how can I help you, Mr. Solomons? You got your delivery, right? I talked to your girl last week about it," he gushed, already eager to get the conversation over.

"Yeah, Ms. Ziemann told me about your willingness to make it right. Didn't she, Abe?" Alfie had brought Abe along in case he needed another gun, but Mesnard didn't seem like much of a threat. Abe wisely kept quiet, his mouth a thin frown.

Mesnard was getting fidgety. "Right. Ms. Ziemann, that's right. She's a good one, that one. A real peach!" he laughed, shakily.

Alfie had a mental flash of Mabel in her peach slip and he momentarily saw red. He could feel his pulse pounding in his temples, but he said jovially, "Mmhm. Yes, she is. In fact, she's such a fuckin peach that I'm going to make sure you fully appreciate it. Because I'm not such a peach myself." Mesnard paled and licked his lips nervously, despite Alfie's light tone. "Do you like peaches, Mr. Mesnard?"

Mesnard jumped at the chance to say the right thing. "Oh, yes, definitely," he said, nodding ferociously.

"You do, do you?" questioned Alfie, his voice going hard and he stopped twirling the stick.

"I mean, no!" Mesnard rushed. "I mean, I do, but not _your_ peaches."

"Who said anything about my peaches? Huh? Who said any fuckin' such thing? I'm talking about peaches as a metaphor for all the good things in life. Do you know what a metaphor is, Mr. Mesnard?"

"Yes, actu..."

"Shut the fuck up." Alfie's voice was dark and deadly. "Now, I am a man who can appreciate a good peach from afar. I don't have to sink my teeth into it and rip it apart first. But. I will tell you that I am capable, very fuckin' capable, of sinking my teeth in and ripping things apart."

Then Alfie's demeanor changed abruptly, back to his amiable and reasonable self. "Which is why..." he reached into his inner jacket pocket, "I contacted my lawyer and had him draw up this paperwork." Alfie spread the paper on Mesnard's desk, helpfully pointing to the page. "See here? It says that you'll be signing over all _your_ peaches...to me. See? So here's your favorite pen, you can just sign right here."

"But..." Mesnard sputtered. "Why?"

"As punishment, Mr. Mesnard. For not fully appreciating peaches." Alfie's tone dropped into dangerous again. "So I'm going to take your peaches...and sink my teeth in. And then rip them the fuck apart." Abe brought the gun at his side up, leveling it at Mesnard's face.

Mesnard was shocked into standing abruptly. His breath was coming in gasps and his wide eyes blinked at Alfie. "But...but you can't do that!"

Alfie came unhinged. "And WHY. THE FUCK. NOT!"

Mesnard was clearly panicking now, shoving his hands through his hair, his eyes flitting back and forth. "What about all the workers? What about all of their families, you can't just turn them out into the cold! The people in this area depend on this work, they'll starve to death without it! If you shut down the glass factory..."

"Shut it down? I'm not going to shut it down." He waved Abe's hand down. "Stop, stop, Abe. He obviously doesn't understand. We're going to have to educate him first." Then to Mesnard, he said, "I'm taking over your shite management and making sure your sons get a chance to make their own fortunes instead of living off of this one. I'm doin' you a favor, mate, you should really be thanking me."

But Mesnard hadn't calmed down enough to hear anything he'd said. He kept his eyes trained on Abe's gun. "But the union! They'll never stand for this, they could strike and the fallout would be...it'd be a bloody war!"

Alfie was unmoved. He studied the head of his walking stick, thoughtfully. "Have you ever been to war, mate? Hmm? Because I went. And I'm going to guess that dragging yourself through trenches filled with mud and blood and shite isn't the same as a fuckin' strike. So here's what we're gonna do, yeah? You are going TO SIT THE FUCK DOWN!" Mesnard's jaw dropped, then he flopped into his chair, eyes wide. "Then you are going to sign this fuckin' paper. And then you're going to-"

"But, this isn't...you can't just..." Mesnard's hands fluttered helplessly for a moment, and then they clenched. He fixed Alfie with a glare, which was all kinds of stupid. "I want-"

"Let's pretend I give a fuck what you want." Alfie overrode him, surprisingly calm, even to his own ears. "As soon as this bullet hits your brain," he nodded towards Abe's gun, leveled once again at Mesnard's face, "then you stop wanting it. At least, I think so. I'm not a scientific man. Should we try it and find out, mate? I promise to ask you, afterward."

Mesnard dragged in a shaky breath and clenched his eyes shut. Then he exhaled forcefully and dragged the paper towards him. He signed, shaking his head. "I can't believe this is happening."

Alfie swiped the paper out of his grasp as soon as the pen finished moving. "Ah but mate, you're being punished, remember? You're fuckin' awful at this, you don't get to be in charge of anything, ever. Bad boy."

Mesnard just stared at him numbly. "Then who's going to run this company-"

"I'll take care of it. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it."


	10. Chapter 10

Mabel's slim frame shook with fury. "Dissolved the management."

Alfie masked his confusion with annoyance. "Yeah, you know, dissolved it. Broke something apart, usually accomplished with water. Except this time, it was with fuckin' rum."

"So, you're going to...what? Become a bottle factory owner now? Is that a big thing for up and coming..." Mabel broke off, crossing her arms and turning away.

Alfie was moving into dangerous mode very quickly. Mabel was overstepping. She didn't tell him how he ran his business, or how he decided to make money. She didn't get to be angry over his decisions just because they were fucking. That was the ONLY thing they were doing and nothing else. Nothing else at all. Besides, he hadn't done this for her. He'd done it for him. He didn't care if it made her happy; this was a good move for the bakery. It would allow him to cut costs on bottling, get him access to additional distribution possibilities, bring in additional...why was he even thinking about this? He didn't have to defend himself to her! He did what he wanted, and fuck everyone else. Right.

"Oi! You've got one job, and it's for this bakery. You don't worry about fuck all else because this is what you get paid for," he said, waving a hand vaguely towards the production floor. " _I_ run the rest of it, and I do it my way."

"Alfie. I _told_ him. I said it was fine, and he didn't have anything to worry about as long as he replaced the shipments."

"Yeah, well now he knows better and so does everyone else."

"Exactly! Now everyone knows that it doesn't matter what Mabel says because she's just another dumb girl!"

"You did that yourself, mate. Or did I imagine your half of the telephone conversation? 'Oh, _gosh_ Alfie, I don't want you to hurt him!' If there's no one behind that threat, it's not much of a fuckin threat now, is it?"

"Damn you, Alfie Solomons. I _didn't_ want you to hurt him! How can you not understand this? I had taken care of it! We got the shipments we needed, we got more than we needed, and we maintained a relationship with a business contact." Mabel's voice remained steady, but color bloomed high on her cheeks and her hands shook slightly.

"And now instead of a business contact, we have a fuckin business. And I'm going to need someone to run it." Alfie looked at her, waiting.

Mabel stared at him, agape. "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?!"

Alfie didn't know what was going on here. He'd expected...well, he rather thought she'd have been excited about this. It was good for her, it was good for the bakery. Fine, fuck this. This is what he gets for...

"If you don't want this job, well, far be it from me, your FUCKING BOSS...to tell you otherwise." Alfie wanted to punch something.

"I have a job, thanks," Mabel sneered. "I'm going to go do it. That is, if you think I can handle it by myself," and she thundered out without waiting for his reply.

* * *

As the office door slammed behind her, Mabel heard Alfie punch something. She couldn't care less, she wanted to punch something herself. She stalked past barrels, fuming as she made perfunctory checks. God, he was _such_ an arse! How dare he completely undermine everything she'd been working so hard to build and then act like she didn't have the right to be mad.

She maintained her angry internal dialogue the rest of the day with phrases like, "Makes me look completely unreliable!" and, "Was that even fucking necessary?!". It was dark by the time she finally left, and on the walk to her hotel the crystalline night sky calmed her enough to admit to herself that she could see why he'd done it. That was as far as she was willing to concede, but at least she understood him. He was who he was, and it was something she admired about him. He was unyielding and sure of himself, he wielded his power with such casualness and she wouldn't change anything about him for the world. She thought she'd finally started to see the Alfie behind his mask, the shtick he so carefully cultivated for everyone else seemed to be becoming less necessary for him when it was just the two of them. They would be working on something, bent over it together, and she would catch his knowing eyes assessing her outright. She was honored he let her see that he liked what he saw, and she could return those gazes. When he was around, she felt confident, her capabilities badges of honor and her accomplishments things to be proud of.

Did he really not know her at all? She had done nothing since she got to London but fall slowly in love with the bakery, and she'd poured her heart and her abilities into making it work better, run smoother. She knew that business better than the back of her hand and she loved every nook, cranny, and dusty barrel. She couldn't imagine going anywhere else, and couldn't imagine why he'd want her to. Her temper flared amidst her melancholy as she remembered he didn't trust her to take care of something like an unreliable bottle merchant.

Mabel had previously tried to mentally list the things that she'd be willing to do for Alfie Solomons without thought or question and was slightly horrified at the outcome. Now she was livid as she realized she would still do them. Even after he'd determined she was untrustworthy, even still being infuriated with him, she knew herself well enough to know the lengths she would go to to prove him wrong.

She wasn't sure where that left her, other than letting herself into her hotel room and curling up on her saggy bed, pulling the lavender chemise between her fingers.

* * *

The next morning, Mabel felt a little more clear-headed and was willing to give Alfie a chance to explain himself (assuming he had an explanation and was willing to give it). He wasn't there until late afternoon, and by then she'd had a dozen theoretical conversations with him, one memorable one where he'd fired her and another where they'd had sex on the rug. She sighed inwardly. That was essentially their basis for any of their interactions. She knocked politely at his office door and waited for him to answer before entering.

Alfie frowned when he saw her and let his spectacles drop onto the desk. Mabel sat in the chair opposite him, her face neutral as she waited. Alfie crossed his arms and let the silence stretch, clearly feeling like he didn't have anything to say. She ground her teeth slightly and smoothed her skirt.

"I'm not interested in telling you what to do, or expecting you to change they way you run your business," she started. Alfie stroked his beard and said nothing. "I was upset...I _am_ upset because you don't trust me to-"

"Who said that?" Alfie interrupted. "Did I ever fucking say that?"

"Well, no, I-"

"Right."

Mabel collected herself. "Alfie."

He glared.

She tried again. "You told everyone not to trust me. I said, 'Don't worry', and you said, 'you should worry'. You're implying right now that you trust me, so either tell me what you want or let me do it my way."

"You're saying that you would have gone over there and taken his business if I'd told you to. You. That's what you're saying, right?"

Mabel said nothing, her ridiculous list taunting her.

Alfie studied her and went back to stroking his beard. "I just wanna make sure I understand this. So let's say I tell you, 'Mabel, you head on over there and overthrow his management and do it so he knows who's boss from here on out.' You'd do it, that's what you're saying."

Mabel said nothing. Her back was ramrod straight, and she held her hands in her lap.

"And what happens if you can't? Huh? Young slip like you, what if you get in over your head?"

She looked him in the eye. "Then I trust _you_."

Alfie sat back at that. He watched her face, deciding. Then he reached in his desk drawer and pulled out his gun, setting it on the desk in front of him. She watched him, calmly.

"You know that most people, this is the response they get for things like what you're saying, yeah? So what makes you think you're above that? You think that just because we're _fucking_ , that you get to have some kind of say on what I do or how I do it."

Mabel flinched slightly at the word but plowed ahead. "I think that you're letting me run your bakery. I think you wouldn't do that if you didn't think I could, and if I was doing something wrong you'd tell me."

"Oh, you do!" he said approvingly. "Oh good, I was thinking my performance review got lost in the fucking post."

"You already trust me to make decisions when you're not here, you expect me to handle things without  
bothering you. But you can't trust me to do those things while undermining my ability to do them on my own. You don't get to trust me and not trust me at the same time, not if you want me to stay here."

Her implied threat hung in the air. She hadn't meant to say it but wasn't going to take it back. Her pride alone prevented that.

Alfie's voice was ominous. "You don't get to tell me what I can or can't do. Now. Fuck off."

Mabel stood, unhurriedly, and said, "I'll see you tomorrow, boss."

* * *

Alfie watched her leave and then scrubbed his hands through his beard. "Fuck!" He flopped back in his chair, scowling.

He did trust her. He had been letting her handle more and more, watching her delegate, manage, and restructure and he had _admired_ her for it. She was capable, and dependable, and loyal. He could count on one hand how many people like that he knew.

What was he doing? The thing with Mesnard…it was something he would have always done. Except this time when he did it, he'd thought about _her_. And he'd gotten it wrong. She'd been furious. He was no good at this, it was ridiculous to even contemplate…

No. He refused to allow that thought to fully form. She was so…and he was no good. No good at this, no good for her, no good in general. And he lived for that, he prided himself on it, always had done. He wasn't going to fuck up the part of his life he had going for him, not in exchange for something he could get wrong.

Alfie sighed, feeling exhaustion in every muscle. His hand was wrapped from where he'd split his knuckles punching the cabinet the day before, and he slowly unwrapped it, flexing the joints and reveling in the ache. This, he understood. Pain you could see was something he was comfortable with. God, he needed a drink. He grabbed his coat and hat and decided to go look for trouble.

* * *

Mabel sat in the bustle of the hotel bar and picked at her food. It was good, and it was nice to come down after a long day dressed in something other than work clothes and interacting with people other than employees. Or bosses. She was absolutely not upset, and she wasn't going to think about him anymore.

Besides, he was a complete fucker, and who cared if he wanted her or not. She could work anywhere, especially now she could add the bakery to her credentials. If she left now, would Alfie let her go? Did she really want him to?

Aaargh, she needed to stop this. She needed a drink. She abandoned her meal and decided to go look for trouble.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd because I just couldn't wait! :D Please ignore any errors, or at least don't judge me too harshly.

Mabel's eyes shone at the scene around her. The club was full of smoke, music, and bodies and she loved every bit of it. The band's sound boomed through the mics on the small stage and the swish of skirts and squeak of shoes was like another instrument. She felt the bass thudding in her chest and she grinned. Her panting had finally driven her from the dance floor to the bar to catch her breath and she felt sweat drip down the small of her back as she surveyed the dance floor. Still, she couldn't wait to get back out there and move, shake the stress of the day out of her limbs and get lost in the rhythm.

"Sure!" she shouted over the music, accepting the cigarette silently offered by a man at the bar. He presented her a light and she leaned forward to accept, flicking her eyes to his and finding him staring. He was handsome, long and lithe, his eyes flirty. She looked away but smirked. It felt good to be out.

He leaned closer. "I'm Freddie", he said with an answering smirk. "And I can be very charming." He grasped her hand and kissed the back as she took a drag and considered.

"Mabel. And I can be very cheeky."

He laughed, loud and boisterous. He smiled, wide and garish, and presented her with his arm.

"Mabel, my dear, would you care to dance?"

She smiled resolutely and accepted his arm. She'd come here to dance, to unwind, and Alfie wasn't here so thinking about him wasn't going to stop her from...

"Oh, fuck." Mabel stopped dead, staring at the back corner.

Freddie yanked backward jokingly like a dog that had reached the end of its chain. "Well, you weren't kidding about the cheeky." He was grinning until he looked at her face. Then he followed her gaze to the table in the shadows, hazy with smoke and populated by four men. One of whom was looking at them.

Mabel swallowed. Then swallowed again. ' _Fuck, fuck, what is he doing here? Is he going to forever turn up exactly when I'm trying not to think about him?'_

Wait. She was going dancing, not moping about the man in the corner booth. She was allowed to go out, she didn't owe him anything. ' _Right, Mabe, stop acting like a child.'_ She squared her shoulders.

"Old boyfriend?" Freddie joked.

She smiled tightly. "Something like that."

Freddie put his arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry, doll. I'm charming, remember? Let's dance." Then he flashed another wide grin and she felt herself smile in return.

"Yeah, alright." She allowed him to lead her to the floor just as the band started up a fast number. It was one she knew and she surrendered to the music, moving and laughing, Freddie matching her every move.

When the music ended, Freddie leaned close and said, "Can I buy you a drink?" She nodded and they moved to the side where Freddie picked a table and held the chair out for her. Before she could sit, though, she saw Abe winding his way towards their table. "Shite. Ok, um, look, Freddie. That guy? He's...well, he's not really..." was as far as she could get before Abe was in front of her.

"Ms. Ziemann. Mr. Solomons would like to see you."

She couldn't see him from there, but couldn't stop her eyes from drifting towards the area where she knew he sat.

Freddie bristled. "Hey, mate, the lady's busy right now." He got in Abe's face, ready to defend Mabel's honor and she rolled her eyes.

"Freddie, please," asking him to back down with a hand in his forearm. She looked back to Abe, thinking. She took her time, weighing her options and decidedly ignoring the ache in her chest which was not doing her any favors in the decision-making process.

"Abe, what if I don't want to see him?"

"Wait, you know this guy?!" They both ignored Freddie.

"I know you wouldn't do that to me, Mabel," Abe answered her patiently.

Mabel clenched her hands into fists, knowing he was right, and dreading this conversation. Freddie looked a little lost, but when she turned to him and said, "Freddie, thank you for the dance, I had a lovely time," a strange look passed over his face.

Freddie turned to Abe, "Give us a moment, please," and he spun Mabel by the elbow and stepped a few feet away. "Mabel, I know we only just met, but if you want me to go over there with you, I would be-"

Mabel stopped him with a small, sad shake of her head. She looked him in the eye and said, "You're very sweet, Freddie. _And_ charming," She kissed his cheek, lightly, "and you are going to make a girl who wants those things very, very happy. But you should probably go home now."

Freddie didn't lose his look of concern and disapproval but stayed where he was as she returned to the table. When she got there, Abe was nowhere to be seen, but she knew the required appearance would still be expected so she navigated towards Alfie's corner booth.

When she got there, Abe was bent over whispering something in Alfie's ear and his face hardened when he saw her. Mabel sighed. _'This is going to be pleasant.'_

"Hello, Alfie, did you need something?" The other men at the table had vanished and Abe retreated a safe distance so they could talk. Mabel took in Alfie's sleek black hat and greatcoat. He reminded her of a tiger she'd once seen at the London Zoo. His relaxed stature and heavy barriers were purposely designed to make you feel safe, but if you could bring yourself to meet his gaze, you'd quickly be reminded that he was fully capable of destroying you. Good Lord, he was sexy.

* * *

It was just like her to show up before he could give Abe the order to kill that dumb shite she'd been dancing with. Fine. He could dance too. He slid his mask in place, although his deep scowl didn't seem to lift much, so he wasn't sure how nonchalant he appeared.

"Sit down, sit down." He waved towards the seat and reached for two glasses and a bottle of their rum. His rum. Right. She seemed to be deciding whether or not to sit, but eventually lowered herself into the booth.

"Drink?" he said, already pouring.

"No, thank you," she replied. He set the glass in front of her anyway and drank his own down in one go.

He fixed her with his most piercing gaze and she looked momentarily flustered as she lifted her hand to brush at the curls that had escaped her pins. Alfie was surprised, he couldn't often rattle her. ' _She's beautiful like this._ '

He felt his eyes widen as the thought flared in him, unbidden and definitely unwelcome. He didn't have time for ridiculous infatuations, he was busy and they were dangerous. There. Done.

"You seemed to be having a good time," his traitorous voice steeped a little more malice in than he'd intended, and he watched her stiffen and her flush creep down her neck.

"I was, in fact. I don't need your permission to have a good time. I've been having a good time _all by myself_ long before I met you, thank you very much." She crossed her arms and glared at a point over his shoulder.

"I don't give a rat's arse if you're having a good time or not. I'm not here to give my permission." Alfie resisted the urge to cross his arms also. He gritted his teeth instead. "I couldn't give a shite if you're coming or going."

"Is that right? Is that with regards to the bakery, or is this about us _fucking_?" she emphasized the word, spitting it at him.

"You seem to have the impression that you're a mite more important than you actually are. I've got lots of business ventures, the bakery itself isn't even in the top half of my priorities." What the actual fuck was coming out of his mouth right now? He clamped his jaw shut to stop the flow of self-destruction that seemed determined to come out.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I still can't tell if this is about the bakery or the fucking."

"You gave me an ultimatum earlier today. I don't do well with ultimatums. But I let it go because you were asking me to trust you. At least, that's what I heard out of you. Is that what you meant?"

Mabel didn't say anything, just kept staring off to the side of him. He felt the flame of anger he'd been harboring since that conversation flare up again and he had the urge to _make_ her look at him.

"And now I get here and I see you eye-fucking some bloke at the bar. So, you tell me. Did you want me to trust you all the time, or just when you think I can see you? Because I need someone that I can actually trust, not someone who's going to run off and jump in the enemy's bed."

Her eyes finally snapped back to his at that. "The enemy's _bed_?!"

"Well, how the hell should I know who you're fucking?"

"I guess I thought you'd know since you'd been there."

"Mmhm." Alfie pressed his lips together. She was infuriating! He'd been counting on her level-headedness and reasonable attitude to see that his hands were tied here and she needed to be understanding. She needed to back off. He needed her to back off. ' _Please, please. Back off, before I say something I can't take back.'_

"You know what?" Mabel threw her hands up. "I can't do this anymore. I have done nothing wrong and I came here to have a good time. I don't have to put up this shite." She gathered her small purse and stood. "Thank you for the drink Mr. Solomon but I will be taking my leave."

Fuck. She hadn't backed off. Couldn't she see that he needed her? Did he really have to say it? Well, fuck that. He was the leader of the biggest and most powerful gang in London, he wasn't going to beg his employee for anything.

"If you walk away from this table, don't bother coming in tomorrow. I don't need quitters either." ' _Don't walk away, don't walk away.'_

Mabel barked out a laugh. "Oh, don't worry, I'm sure you won't have a problem finding my replacement."

"Like I'd worry about that." Alfie's stomach sank as he said it. Why was she making him do this?

She flinched but then glared, a hint of tears showing in her eyes. "Yeah, same here," and she turned to go.

No. No! For the first time since she'd sat down, he realized he could lose this. And not just lose this conversation, but _her_. Wait, he needed to get her to wait. He didn't know how to fix this, but he could figure this out. He didn't want her to go.

"Mabel..."

She glared over her shoulder. "Fuck off."

And then she left. He watched her skirt swish as she walked away, and he felt the molten heat of his anger cool in his stomach, run down his body and turn his feet to lead. He sank into the booth and stared unblinkingly at her untouched glass on the far side of the table.

Slowly, he reached for the glass. He let out a shaky breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and drank the liquid, grimacing at the burn on the way down. He stood, reached for his walking stick and motioned Abe over with a jerk of his chin. "Abe. Look and see if that skinny fuck she was dancing with is still here and find out what he knows. You have permission to kill him for any reason at all."

Alfie walked out the back entrance, alone.


	12. Chapter 12

Alfie staggered through the alley on his way back home. He should have gotten a cab. It wasn't far, but he probably shouldn't have had that last drink. ' _Actually'_ , he reminded himself, ' _if I had left before I'd gotten those last two drinks, my night would be going immeasurably better in a number of ways.'_ He shook his head, then decided that was a bad idea when the cobblestones in front of him started to sway alarmingly. He was thinking about sitting down and putting his head between his legs, which was why when the blow from behind him knocked him forward onto his hands and knees, he wasn't sure at first if he'd fallen by choice or not.

"Take that you fuckin. Dirty. Jew," he heard someone sneer above him and felt a glob of spit land on the back of his neck and trickle down his jaw. He tried to get his feet under him but was knocked sideways by a kick to his ribs. He groaned, coughed, and tried to roll away. He was corrected by another kick to his ribs, this time from the other side. The two men kept kicking until he heard something snap, then they kicked him a few more times until he lost track of the damage. Finally, he was yanked upwards by a hand on the back of his collar. His own walking stick was forced under his Adam's apple and a foul breath of air was forced in his face when a man grunted, "Sabini says to keep your kikes out of his territory." Then a fist connected with his left eye, and he fell blissfully into unconsciousness.

When he woke later, he wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it was raining slightly and he was shivering uncontrollably. He tried to pick himself up off the cobblestones and almost passed out again when his ribs crunched against each other. He managed to raise himself to his knees, one hand on the wall of the building and the other feeling carefully around his ribcage. Two, maybe three broken. No holes anywhere, though, so that was a win for him. His throat burned, his face was felt too big and too small at the same time. His legs seemed to be working ok, though, so he gritted his teeth and got to his feet. He could make it home from here, it wasn't far. Not far. He moved his feet. Not far. Not far. Not far. Not far. Not far. Not far. Not far. Not far. Not far. Not far...

* * *

"Och! I'm sorry sir! I dinnae ken you were..." Rowena paused as she studied the shape on the bed. He was still dressed, he hadn't even taken off his coat and his muddy shoes had gotten all over the sheets _and_ the duvet, which she would have to wash now, thank you very...

"Sir! Yer bleedin'! Och, my, are ye alright?" his normally unflappable housekeeper was fluttering her hands around him, afraid to touch him for fear of hurting him.

"'M fine, 'wena. 'S need sleep," he rasped into the pillow.

"But sir!" she moved closer, examining his face, "Yer face is bleedin'!"

"Said 'm FINE!" Alfie bellowed as best he could, his eyes shut tight and not moving his head as much as possible to placate the band of boulder-throwing trolls who had taken up residence between his ears.

Rowena hesitated for the space of exactly one heartbeat, then put her hands on her ample hips. "Sir, you set yerself up right now, ye manky numptie, and let me have a look at ye. Yer gettin blood all over my linens."

Alfie sighed and cracked his one good eye at her. She looked worried, covered only thinly with a layer of annoyance. He'd known her for so long that the worry on her face meant he must look pretty bad. She wasn't one to coddle him, which was one of the reasons he loved her. She'd hugged him once in the 10 years he'd employed her: when his mother died. Then she'd told him to stop buying such cheap cuts of meat if he expected her to make decent food for the shiva.

He let his eyelid slide shut, but pushed himself up enough for her to get her strong arms under his shoulders to help. He let out a deep groan when she tried to hold him up around his chest and she immediately stopped to feel the extent of the damage. She tutted as she delicately walked her thick fingers over his ribs and then started helping him undress. He let out a hiss as she pulled his greatcoat down his arms.

"Aye, aye, aye, ye great bairn, I ken it hurts." She wrestled him out of his coat and shirt and made him raise his arms so she could wrap his ribs. "Yer lookin a mite peeley walley, I feart yer needin a stookie fer those ribs but this'll haveta do."

"I never have any idea what you're saying, woman," Alfie grumbled at her but shot her a grateful glance. Eventually, she let him alone and he slept.

* * *

When he woke again, it was afternoon and he'd had two fingers on his right hand splinted and a cold cloth had dripped all over his pillow from where it had rested against his eye, but he felt marginally better. He hissed when he saw his puffy face in the glass, but he ignored Rowena's protests and dressed carefully before heading to the bakery. He had work to do.

When he got in, he spent several hours mobilizing his men towards the border between his and Sabini's land, he completed as much of his business via telephone and Abe as possible, at least until his black eye healed and he could yell without gasping.

"Fuck," Alfie watched the pencil stub fall from his fingers and roll under the desk. He sighed, looking for Abe but remembering he'd sent him out. "Fuck," he whispered again. He maneuvered himself carefully off his chair to the floor trying to reach it while remaining as upright as possible. God, he hoped no one would see him like this, he fuckin' _hated_ broken ribs. His fingers scraped the area under his desk, seeking the god fucking damned piece of shite pencil, when he felt them brush against something small and round. He grasped it unseeingly in his palm and then managed to grab the pencil before mercifully being able to straighten and breathe normally. Well, semi-normally. Alfie opened his fist to see the pencil nestled against a tiny pearl button. He had a vision of tearing Mabel's shirtwaist and scattering those buttons, but he forced the memory away. He thought he'd gotten them all. Alfie resettled himself in his chair and then placed the button carefully in his desk drawer until he could throw it away. When he closed the drawer, he could hear it tink against the whiskey bottle.

Thinking of her made him remember the damned glass factory.

"FUCK." He plowed his uninjured hand through his hair.

"Sir?" Abe had just rounded the corner into the office.

' _He couldn't have shown up ten minutes ago?'_ "I forgot about Canning Town Glass. I still need someone to manage the thrice damned place. Unfortunately, I seem to be short on people qualified for that." Abe, wisely, said nothing. "Say, Abe, do you want to run a factory?" Alfie asked, only half joking.

"No, sir," Abe gave him a half smile anyway. "Why don't you just do what Mabel suggested?"

Alfie only stiffened a little at her name, but mostly because it hurt too much. "What did she suggest?"

"Well, it's in the telegram." Abe stood and rifled through the papers strewn on the desk. "Here," he said, locating it "Arrived early this morning. Sorry, sir, I thought you'd seen it."

Alfie read it quickly, eyebrows shooting up. "Where did she send it from?"

Abe hesitated. "Well, I'm not sure-"

"Find out."

* * *

WESTERN UNION TELEGRAM

To: Mr. Alfie Solomons

South Pier Road  
Ellesmere Port  
CH65 4FW

ask secretary at canning town for director recommendations STOP she will know who is qualified END

MZ

* * *

Mabel sighed as she surveyed her childhood bedroom, thumping her suitcase on the floor next to her. Her mother had changed absolutely nothing while she'd been in London ("I always knew you'd see sense and I wanted you to feel right at home when you came back.") and she hated the very sight of it. It was irrational, she knew. It was the room she had grown up in, where she'd dressed for Temple and school, where she'd cried into her pillow when Jake Peavy told her he loved her and then she saw him kiss Susan Barns behind the market. This was where she'd lain awake at night and dreamed of being something more than the wife and mother her own mother had in mind. The trouble was, she wanted that too. But a girl can't have it all, and once the war started, she'd chosen the path she thought would never be available to her. She'd felt it was the right one too, even after Mr. Tritton ( _Sir_ Tritton, she reminded herself) had taken her ideas and claimed them as his own. They were still good ideas, ones that she'd seen come to fruition under her hand and she wouldn't have done it over again if she could have. She knew well enough that you don't get to core out a part of your past without losing part of yourself with it. Unfortunately.

She shook herself out of her reverie. This was home now, she'd better get used to thinking 'future' in here instead of 'past'. It might not be all bad. She could smell her mum's cooking floating up the stairs, and how can you possibly be homesick when you're standing in your home?

She decided that she'd get a hold of Hazel tonight and see what she'd been missing out on. She hadn't had time to call her before she'd left London, just sent a quick telegram to her parents and caught the next train. Plus the one to...the bakery. Anyway, Hazel would be just the ticket for pulling her out of her own head. Decision made, Mabel quickly unpacked and changed for dinner.

As she headed down the stairs, she heard her mother's voice and her blood ran cold and her feet stilled. She recognized the fake cheery "we have company" voice her mother always used when she was putting on her best face. _'Why, WHY is she doing this to me now? Can't she give me one day?'_ Because Mabel knew exactly what her mother was planning. Oh, yes, this was an old game and one that her mother was determined to win this time.

"Mabel!" her mother trumpeted as she entered the kitchen. "Mabel, I'd like to introduce you to Daniel Sonby. He works with your father and he's coming to supper!" She presented him as if he were the prize rooster at the fair.

Daniel was sitting at their kitchen table but rose as Mabel entered the room. He was...short. That was Mabel's first impression. Then she felt terrible, what a horrible thing to judge someone on. She tried again, determined to give him a fair chance. He was impeccably dressed in a three-piece suit, and his hat rested on the table. He had dark, wavy hair that was pommaded within an inch of its life, and soft hands when he shook hers. He smiled at her. He seemed so...nice. She cleared her throat.

"So!" she said with forced cheeriness, "Are you an investment banker also?"

"Ah, yes actually. Well, just started. Your father's been showing me the ropes." His voice was warm, polite. Nothing at all to dislike.

"Well, I hope he's not working you too hard," she tried on a smile. It seemed to stick a little at the corners, but he returned it with gusto.

"Oh, no," he chuckled. Then he paused. Then he kept pausing. Eventually, Mabel realized he wasn't pausing, he was just done talking. She felt a headache starting right between her eyes.

She batted her eyelashes. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Uh, sure," he replied nervously.

"How do you feel about paperwork?"

"Uh, well I suppose that depends. What kind?"

She laughed gaily, head tossed back like he's just said the funniest thing she'd ever heard. She let her fingertips brush his sleeve and he smiled warmly at her. His eyes didn't crinkle at all when he smiled. Not even a little.

Mabel caught her mother's eye and realized she was being glared at. She gave her a wide-eyed innocent look and her mother said, "Excuse us please, Mr. Sonby, we'll be right back."

"Sure, absolutely. But it's just Daniel, please Mrs. Ziemann."

"Well aren't you sweet! Back in a jiff!" Then she hauled Mabel bodily into the hallway. "I know what you're doing, Missy," she hissed. "You stop it right now before you scare him away."

"Oh please, Mother, he's eating it up. And I'm not scary."

"It won't take him long before he figures out that you're making fun of him. Now, he's a nice boy and you aren't in a place to be so choosy. So you try, huh? You try for me."

And Mabel looked at her mother and saw herself. She saw a lovely, intelligent woman who _chose_ to be a wife and a mother and was proud of it. More to the point, she chose to be Mabel's mother, and she was proud of Mabel. Who was she to sneer at that? Besides, she _wasn't_ in a place to be choosy. She'd spent the last several years following a path that had literally led her back to her own front door, and maybe it was time. She mentally tallied her biological clock, shuddered, and then hugged her mum.

"Ok, Mother, you win. I'll try."

So she did. She sat at the table with him and her parents, eating and talking and more eating. She asked him honest questions and listened to his answers, she invited him with her and her friends to go dancing later in the week and he agreed. He didn't smoke, only drank occaionally, and had never broken a bone. He went to Temple, he was excited about moving up in his position at the bank, and he was saving for a new automobile. He'd like to take her for a drive sometime. He thought she had a lovely smile. He didn't swear because it was vulgar. He didn't feel the crime rate in the city was acceptable. He hadn't enlisted because he'd been at University. And he didn't fuck girls on his desk at work. Probably.

He left late, her mother beaming and her father a bit tipsy, and she drug herself up to her room. Mabel changed into her nightgown, carefully arranged her brush and toiletries on the dresser, and packed the chemise and shirtwaist in the far back of the wardrobe. Then she climbed under the covers and made a list in her head of all the things she'd do for Daniel without question. It took a very long time to fall asleep.


	13. Chapter 13

"Oh, come ON, Mabe! It'll be a blast, we will all go. Pete has a new car, he said he'd drive us, and you don't even have to buy anything if you don't want."

"Well, that's a relief, seeing as how I don't have anything to buy it with. Honestly, don't you guys get tired of spending your parent's money on shoes and...what else do you buy?"

Hazel rolled her eyes. "God, you have jealousy seeping out of your ears. It's kind of disgusting. Do you need a hankie or something?"

Mabel grinned. "You're such a hag."

"You love it. Come on, you can bring your little boy toy. I'm sure he'd be happy to spend his hard-earned money on some shoes or whatever it is we buy."

"Oh, don't call him that. And I know he absolutely would buy me shoes if I asked him and then he'd have to eat beans for a week."

"Oh, honey. If he's not eating beans for two weeks, you're not shopping correctly."

"Well, shit, let's make it three, why not! It's not like it would be using him or anything."

"Mabe. What's wrong? You know I was kidding. You ok?" Hazel sat up from where she'd been lounging upside down on Mabel's bed, suddenly concerned.

Mabel didn't want to get into it. She sat at her desk, fixing her hair in the mirror and talking to Hazel, the way she'd done countless times in her life. She fixed her with a fierce smile. "I'm fine! Let's take him for all he's worth," and she winked.

"Oh, no you don't! We have been friends for too long for you to pull this on me. Spill it. Now. Or I'll call for your mum." Hazel looked at her warningly. "I'll do it too, you know I will."

Mabel gave her a half shrug, smile firmly in place. "I don't know, maybe I'm just a bit restless. I'm so used to working every day, being independent. It's a big change."

Hazel swung herself off the bed and expertly took over Mabel's hair, thinking while she worked. "If you'd like, I can talk to my dad ..." she faded off. "Look, I know you might not want to work there, but I'm sure he still respects you and if you really needed something..." she gestured helplessly.

"It's ok, Hazel." Mabel's smile slipped. "I left on good terms, it's just that...I don't know if that's really what's best for me anymore. I don't know what I want. I'm trying to work it out with David, I just need to give it a little more time to see if there's anything there. I promised my mum I would try."

"Ok, sure. Just one question. Who's David?"

"Oh fuck!" Mabel's hands flew to her face. "Daniel, I meant Daniel. Shit, fuck!"

"Yeeeeaah, honey I think you may have answered your own question there. Haven't you been out with him a dozen times already?"

"Four," Mabel answered dejectedly. "And I can't even remember his name." She buried her face in her hands. "I'm the worst person, ever."

"Oh, stop, of course you're not. So you're not into him, so what? What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing! He's...nice." She gave a delicate shudder and Hazel laughed.

"Well, that sounds horrible. Who wants nice?" She finished placing the last pin in Mabel's updo and said, "Viola! You're done. And who wants to be all dressed up with no place to go? Come on, call Mr. Nice Guy and come out with us. What else are you going to do? Mother's flower arranging class is already full, I checked."

"No, you didn't." Mabel gave her hair one final pat. "Fine, I'll come but DavidDaniel is not allowed to buy me _anything_. Don't pressure him into it, ok?"

"Sure, sure." Hazel flipped her hair in the mirror and used Mabel's lipstick without asking. "Tell you what. If you call him DavidDaniel to his face, _I'll_ buy you something." She grinned. "But I bet you won't have to worry about it. I bet he buys you something fancy without asking you and surprises you with it."

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "Perfect, like I need another-" Mabel broke off and clamped her teeth together with a click. She hadn't meant to say that.

Hazel jerked her head around to stare at Mabel, her mouth a perfect 'O' of surprise. "Another what!" Mabel just shook her head, instantly regretting opening her mouth. "Oh my sweet lord, you have to tell me. Whatever it is, this is going to be amazing. Tellmetellmetellmetellme." Hazel was practically vibrating with the tantalizing hint of unheard gossip. She flopped herself on Mabel's bed, knees drawn up to her chin and her arms wrapped around them like she was 12 again and they were whispering about which girls in their class had boobs and who just pretended they did.

"Ugh, this stupid town is rotting my brain, I can't believe I said that."

"Aaagh, you HAVE to tell me! Please! Please, look at me, I'm dying here!"

Mabel sighed and moved to the wardrobe, digging until she unearthed the box she'd hidden from herself. She placed it carefully on the bed and stepped back, giving Hazel silent permission to look inside.

Hazel, for all her frantic energy, took her time carefully and adoringly unwrapping and lifting each article of clothing out of the box and laying them out on the bed. The white shirtwaist, which had never been out of the box before, was slightly creased where it had been folded but the material had a beautiful sheen to it in the sunlight. The chemise had been folded and re-folded but had the tags on it just like the shirtwaist. "Oh, _Mabe_. They're gorgeous! Where did they come from? They must have cost a fortune."

"I didn't buy them."

Hazel looked up. "I figured. What's his name?" she asked gently.

Mabel swallowed and allowed herself to touch the shirtwaist, hesitantly. She couldn't quite meet Hazel's eyes as she licked her lips and murmured, "Alfie."

Hazel froze. "Wait...Alfie? As in your _boss_ , Alfie? As in, "He's really dangerous you should _cut ties_ ", Alfie? As in he had his _hands_ up my _skirt_ , Alfie?!" Her voice got louder the longer she talked.

Mabel lifted one shoulder in a half shrug and kept her eyes on the clothes.

"How long has this been going on?"

Mabel lifted the other shoulder and started refolding the items into the box.

"Jesus Christ. You are such a floozy," Hazel teased, grinning. Mabel couldn't help smiling a little bit in return. "So, what happened? You're obviously still not over him. Do you want to talk about it?"

Mabel finished folding, placed the box back in the wardrobe and re-buried it. "Not right now."

"Humph," Hazel grunted. "Fine, but I expect full details at some point in the future."

"Sure, hag. I'll let you know when we're ready to pick out curtains."

* * *

Alfie was glaring at his desk. Then he ran the row of numbers for the second time, making scratches on the side. Abe was talking again. Or still. His left hand rolled a button absentmindedly between his first two fingers and his thumb while he calculated, and when he was finally satisfied they were right, he tuned Abe back in.

"...been almost two weeks, and I know we're only going to get busier with Sabini. So I can post the ad tomorrow, or even today if you like, and we can move the desk back out."

"Post an ad? What ad?" Alfie barked. He had an idea where this was going, but if Abe could be scared off, Alfie wasn't above trying it.

"For the foreman position, sir," Abe continued, clearly unfazed by his grumpiness. Hmmm. It may have been a bad idea to let him get self-confidence.

"Absolutely not, we'll just split it up. 'S practically all sorted anyhow." Abe crouched over his desk again, matter clearly closed.

"Sir. This is a full-time job, and we're already seeing the effects of her not being here. I say we just-"

"THAT'S ENOUGH." Alfie stood, his chair scraping backwards and fury painting his face. His ribs ached sharply, both from the shouting and the standing, but he glared Abe down anyway. "It's not going. To be. Discussed. Is that understood?"

Abe stood also. "Sir," he nodded but his eyes were hard. Alfie couldn't care less.

"Pretty sure you've got somewhere to be, yeah? So fuck off."

Abe left and Alfie opened his desk drawer, throwing the button in before slamming it shut.

(Tink, tink.)

* * *

Hazel and her friends were having a great time, and Mabel was genuinely smiling. She had to remind herself that these bright young things used to be her friends too.

"Are you enjoying yourself, darling?" Daniel (not 'Dan', she'd checked) asked, squeezed close to her in the back of the car.

"Mmm," she flashed him a quick smile. She looked out the side, breeze brushing her face as they flew through the countryside. It was nearing the end of the month, she wondered if they'd remember to count the charcoal barrels when they did inventory. She'd set them aside and had a special buyer lined up, but she couldn't remember exactly how she'd filed their names and maybe she ought to send another telegram-

Then Daniel's fingers brushed her jaw and she turned to him. He was gazing at her warmly, pulling a curl behind her ear. When he leaned down to kiss her, she let him. It was chaste, sweet, and everything a girl should want. He pulled away far enough to whisper in her ear, "I'd like to do that some more."

"Mmm," she flashed him another smile, although this one was a little more pained. Everyone's chatter flowed over them again and she turned back to the window. He rubbed her arm absentmindedly, and when they stopped in the next town to start their shopping, she held his hand for as long as she could manage it.

* * *

"So what I'm hearing you say," Alfie started, opening his desk drawer (tink, tink) "Is that you feel you've been paying too much for our protection."

The older man in front of him stiffened, eyes on his hand in the drawer. "Y...yes. Sir," he added quickly. "I mean, it's worth every farthing, of course. It's just that with my son gone and the business falling on hard times..."

"Well, we wouldn't want you to have to pay for something you can't afford, now would we?" Alfie's eyes glittered venomously. "I tell you what, why don't we just cancel the whole thing."

"Cancel?" the man asked, confused.

"Sure! Why, we'll just pull all the protection. Now. Today. I'm sure you don't really need it. I'm sure nothing at all could really happen to your business, say, overnight."

"Uh..." he looked nervous, twisting his cap in his hands. "That's actually...that's not what I was saying actually."

Alfie's hand relaxed off his gun, still hidden in the desk drawer. "Oh, it's not? You mean you'd like to keep doing business with me."

"Y...yes, sir," he stuttered, cap twisting faster now. "Very much so."

"Fantastic! Glad to have you with us." Alfie slammed his drawer shut (tink, tink). "Now fuck off, before I change my mind."

"Y...yes, sir," and he scurried out of the office.

Alfie shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He saw flashes of brown curls, red-kissed lips, heard her burbling laugh, and his eyes snapped open. He opened the drawer again, this time for a glass. (Tink, tink.)

* * *

At the end of the evening, Mabel and Daniel were dropped off at her house, Daniel's car ready and waiting there to take him home. The group puttered away, waving and calling out cheery goodbyes from the car windows and Mabel waved happily back.

She turned back to Daniel, and she noticed he looked handsome in his suit, in the moonlight. The windows of the house were darkened, her parents long since asleep and the silver light shined off his hair, his forgotten hat in his hands. He stepped into her space and slowly lifted his hand to cup her jaw. When he leaned in to kiss her, slowly, so slowly, she turned her head and deepened the kiss. He made a soft sound of surprise when she flicked her tongue to taste his lips and he pulled back, eyebrows raised and a smile on his face. She returned the smile and he squeezed her hands.

"Can I see you tomorrow?" he asked, softly.

She looked down into his eyes. ' _Seriously, why is he so short?'_ Then she registered what he'd said. "To...tomorrow? Um...sure, I suppose so." ' _Well, I guess we're done here._

Daniel stroked his finger along the thin gold chain at her neck and tucked a curl behind her ear. Then he kissed her hand like she was the fucking queen, climbed in his car and drove off down the lane with a breezy wave.

 _'Well, that was...platonic.'_ Mabel decided to head to bed but froze with her hand on the door as a thought struck her. ' _Oh god, what if he thinks I'm a virgin?'_ then immediately on the heels of that, _'Oh GOD, what if HE'S a virgin?!'_ She let out a large fake sob, her shoulders slumped in defeat and drug herself inside.

When she got to her room, she took off the necklace Daniel had bought her that day. Hazel was right, he'd bought it without asking and slipped it onto her neck when she was sitting on a bench. She couldn't think of a polite way to decline it, and couldn't think of a reason for wanting to (or, at least, a reason she could give him) and so she'd worn it. It was slim, delicate, simple. It was lightweight too, so she shouldn't have been able to feel it at all times. She laid it on the dresser and got ready for bed.

She laid in the quiet and tried to picture Daniel. There wasn't any one thing that she didn't like about him, except maybe that his hands were too soft. And he was short, but she was a tall girl and she really needed to get over that because it wasn't like it was his fault. He had a nice smile, and piercing blue eyes that… No, wait. He didn't have blue eyes. And he didn't have a beard. And he didn't have gorgeous full lips that always found that perfect spot below her ear that made her come apart. And he didn't have muscled shoulders that were perfect for holding on to when he rocked against her. She'd never fantasized about his hands or the amazing things he could do with them. He didn't rip her clothing off of her or talk dirty to her on the phone or somehow make her feel special when he asked her a question. She'd never wondered what he'd talk to her about in the dark after sex or whether he'd let her make it ok if he was hurting. She never wondered what he was doing or what he was thinking about. She'd never wanted to make him proud. She'd never wanted so badly to be trusted by a man that trusted no one, to be needed by a man who needed no one. God, she missed him. But she would _not_ cry, because she was thinking about the future and not the past and if she could only focus...' _Stop crying. He's not crying about you.'_ And then she broke down.

Well. A girl's allowed at least one.


	14. Chapter 14

"Now ye need to keep them wrapped or it'll take even longer to heal, ye crabbit wean." Rowena finished tying off the wrapping and helped him shoulder into his shirt.

"Mmph."

"Ye could say 'thank ye', ye ken."

"Mmph!" Alfie grunted at her pointedly, but he smiled and she smiled back. He was getting damned sick of his ribs aching, but he figured he still had a few more weeks of this before he'd feel back to normal.

"Shall I keep supper tonight?"

"No, I'll be late. Leave something in the kitchen, I'll eat whenever I get in."

Rowena bent to tie his boots for him, which was humiliating and very, very welcome because it hurt like the devil to bend over for them. "Sir?" she asked, her hands busy.

"Mmph?"

"Is there a particular reason yer tryin' to kill yerself?"

Alfie felt his jaw tighten. He didn't say anything but when she stood up, she fixed him with a glare.

"Because ye been mopin' around here like more than jus' yer ribs is broken and I'm scunnered of havin' to tiptoe around ye."

Alfie glared right back and held up his right hand. "I've got fingers broken also."

"Och, aye. And yer aff yer heid too, but I don't count either."

"You're fussing, woman."

"Well, someone should, ye ken? I'm gettin' auld, ye need a bairn or two and a nice wife in the scullery."

"But where would I keep you?" Alfie leaned in and gave her cheek a loud smacking kiss. He rose to shrug into his greatcoat, pausing to accept her help.

"What aboot the one ye brought here?" Rowena asked, serious and inescapable.

Alfie stilled. He kept trying not to think about her. About a hundred times a day he had to not think about her. "She left. She's gone." Because it was true. She wasn't coming back, and it was his own damn fault for being right and working his business the right way, the way he'd been running it for years-

"Och, that's easy. Ye just get her to come back."

"Right, easy," he scoffed.

"Talk to her. Tell her ye want her to come back. Ye do want her to come back, don't ye?"

Alfie cleared his throat and picked up his hat. He didn't say anything, just settled his hat carefully on his head, checking it in the mirror.

"'S what I thought. So ye just tell her _why_ ye want her to come back, and then back she'll come," Rowena said offhandedly, handing him his walking stick.

"Mmph. Bank the fire before you go," then he tipped his hat and was out the door.

His car got him to work, he assumed, because he was there and he didn't remember the trip. His mind was occupied with thoughts of ' _MabelMabelMabel_ '. The damned woman had gotten into his head, around his defenses, and he couldn't figure out how to get her out. Maybe it was time for him to decide if that's what he really wanted.

"Abe!" he bellowed as he entered the bakery. He shuffled towards his office, Abe at his elbow rattling off what he needed to do first. "Did you get the Harrington order shipped?"

Abe looked confused. "You didn't say anything about a Harrington order, sir."

Alfie threw his hat and coat towards the chair in his office. "Well, I guess that's a fuckin 'no'." He scratched his beard and sighed. "It's those charcoal barrels in the..."

"...in the back corner, oh fuck! Mabel said she..." Abe trailed off as he checked Alfie's face. Alfie busied himself with papers on his desk and kept his face neutral.

His voice, though, was quiet. "I know you said she sent the telegram from the hotel before she left, but do you know where she is, Abe? Because I feel like you do, and you're not telling me."

Abe knew the danger of quiet. He should, he'd seen it turned on people a time or two. So Alfie knew that the threat was obvious and if Abe lied to him right now, Alfie would have to go down a path he really didn't want to.

Luckily, Abe was just as quiet but he answered, "Yes, I know. You've never asked me before, and I wasn't sure..."

Irritation flared in him. "'S fine, Abe. Where."

But Abe wasn't finished. "I wasn't sure if I should tell you."

Alfie turned slowly to face him. Abe's eyes were wary, but he held firm.

"Mable is...well she's the best boss I've ever had and she's nice." Here, he got flustered, as if he couldn't quite find the right words. "I mean, she's a really lovely person, and…"

Alfie rounded on him savagely, grabbing him by the collar and hauling him up until his toes scraped the floor. He vibrated with fury, every inch of him the lethal powerhouse he usually hid under his careful facade. "You stay the hell away from her. I will kill you, do you understand?" he snarled.

Abe looked at him, and where Alfie had expected to see fear and panic, there was only sadness and bemusement on his face. "You don't have to worry about that with me, sir. I'm not...interested," he said.

Alfie's face didn't change expression, every line edged with ire. But his eyes searched Abe's, and slowly his breaths stopped huffing angrily out his nose. He slowly lowered him to the ground, his face calming but his hands still clenched tightly in Abe's shirt.

"Mmph."

Abe waited, but when there was no other reaction, he plowed ahead to finish what he'd started. "Sir, about Mabel. I didn't tell you because...she knows where _you_ are, yeah? She can come back at any time. But...she's out. She's safe. If she didn't want to be a part of...all this...now she doesn't have to be." Abe's voice was calm, but his eyes pleaded with him to understand.

And Alfie did. God help him, he did. He released Abe's shirt and backed away until he reached his desk. He felt a bit ill. He plowed his hand through his hair.

He glanced over Abe once, from head to toe, and nodded a quick jerk of his head. "Mmph."

Abe turned to go, and Alfie felt a moment of panic. He turned back to his desk to cover it and started, "Abe." Then he didn't know what to say. Abe stood, waiting, and Alfie's eyes stared a hole in the floor at his feet. The silence stretched uncomfortably until the words were torn out of him, "She's important. To me. I...miss her, yeah?"

Abe considered. Then he cleared his throat. Without a word, he walked over to the desk and took Alfie's pencil stub. He wrote something on a scrap of paper and slid it over to Alfie.

Alfie took the scrap of paper and the short number listed on it, fingering the soft edge before stuffing it in his pocket. Then a gruff, "Thank you," and he stuck out his hand to shake Abe's.

Abe looked surprised but shook Alfie's hand firmly. "You should tell her that, and then let her choose, yeah? Here, or there. I'm still not sure I should have given you the telephone number, but Mabel would throttle me for trying to make that decision for her," he said.

Alfie grinned at that, wide and relieved. "Right. Let's get those barrels for the order, yeah?"

Abe raised an eyebrow. "You know that was Mabel's idea to try those barrels."

"Yeah, yeah, fuck off, mate," but he was smiling and Abe smiled back.

* * *

Alfie made it all the way through the day before he called the number on the slip of paper. It had been three weeks since he'd heard her voice, and he felt every day of it in the ache of his ribs. He allowed himself to remember her soft hair, her elegant fingers, and, of course, her angry voice telling him to fuck off. He sat in his office, the quiet of the bakery cocooning him, sighed, and reached for his telephone. ' _Tell her. Let her choose. Tell her. Let her choose._ '

"Ziemann residence," came an older female voice.

"Yes, calling for Miss Mabel Ziemann," he said, mask firmly in place.

"She's not in, may I ask who's calling?"

He cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah, tell her it's Mr. Solomons. From London. Calling from London." He cleared his throat again.

"Very well, Mr. Solomons. I will let her know you called. Is there a number...Oh, she's just arrived. One moment." There was a flurry of activity, and then,

"Hello? Alfie?"

He froze for a moment, then said, "Mabel. Hello." He realized he'd been rolling the button between his fingers so hard it was starting to hurt. He didn't even remember picking it up. He quickly dropped it in the drawer and slammed it shut, (tink, tink) but his chest felt lighter at the sound of her voice. He felt...happy. He cleared his throat. "I'm calling to talk to you about...uh...the bakery."

" _The...bakery,_ " she said, skepticism strong.

"Right, the bakery." He felt himself smiling. "Specifically Abe. See, he's been moping around for days. 'S bloody awful! Just awful. "

" _Uh huh_. _What's the problem with Abe?_ "

He could see Mabel, her hip leaning against the counter, lips twitching in spite of herself.

"Oh, I tried to ask him what was wrong, but all he does is sob and say your name. It's fuckin ridiculous."

" _Is that right_?" she laughed.

"'Course. I think he's been missing you. I mean, it's been a mess 'round here, you should see the old place."

" _Well, that all sounds very dire, Mr. Solomons_ ," he could hear her smiling. _"Whatever are you going to do?"_

"Oh, we've tried everything. 'S, fuckin' frightful. I only wish there was something _I_ could do for him," he sighed morosely. "But I did have an idea. You know, one thing we haven't tried."

" _Mmm. I'm sure._ " She sounded like she was biting back a laugh. " _And what might that be, Mr. Solomons?_ "

"I was thinking...you could come back. You know, for Abe." And then he held his breath.

* * *

"For Abe, huh?"

" _Mmph. See, he's bloody obnoxious when you're not here. Well, he's pretty obnoxious when you are here, but lately...well lately he's been inconsolable. 'S fuckin' unpleasant. See, he's been yellin' at everyone a lot more, frightening off the little ones._"

"He must be pretty bad because he was a giant git when I was around."

_"Quite right. The biggest. He's...ah...he's sorry, though. He told me."_

Mabel's heart thrilled. She couldn't contain the slow grin spreading over her face and she allowed herself a blinding flash of ' _this_ _is perfect, there is nothing in the world but this, right here, right now, I'm ignoring everyone and everything else but what is in this exact moment and I'm going to live here forever_.'

Then she looked over and saw her mother, still standing in the doorway, folding her arms and scowling like she disapproved of the very idea of her happiness. Mabel took a deep breath.

"Tell me, did you get that Harrington order out?" she questioned.

"' _Course I did, mate, 'course I fucking did. I can put out an order, thank you very-"_ If the sudden change of topic startled him, the only sign was the brusque tone he switched to.

"Because I was thinking that if you needed my help in getting it out, I could come to London for a bit," she interrupted. There was a pause on the other end. She tried to give her mother a reassuring smile, which, admittedly, felt small and stilted, and Mabel turned around and faced the wall.

_"Right. Well then, in that case, Abe's a fuckin idiot and we couldn't even find the barrels. You wouldn't happen to know where those are, would you?"_

"Of course I would," Mabel beamed. "I can come down straight away and get it sorted. And because this is a business related trip, you wouldn't mind purchasing the train ticket, correct?"

Alfie laughed, a round, full sound and she found her eyes slipping closed, the better to focus on her ears. ' _Ok, wait, maybe this is the moment I want to live in forever.'_

" _Fine, love, I'll buy your ticket, but it'll be whichever one is earliest in the morning and I'm going to request a smelly drunk sit next to you_."

"How do you know I won't be the smelly drunk?" she joked. She listened to his warm chuckle and tried to control the tingles it sent through her. She would be perfectly content hearing that sound every day.

_"I'll take it, yeah? See you then."_

"Yeah." She hung up the phone and turned to face the music; her mother's scowl spoke volumes. She hesitated, then said, "That was my boss, in London. At the bakery."

Her mother sneered. "Smelly _drunk_?" her words dripping with disdain.

"Um, yeah, that was a joke," Mabel giggled nervously. "He's kind of...funny, actually." She wasn't sure this was a word people reached for when describing Alfie for the first time, but his dry humor woven into most of his conversations always made her laugh.

Her mother was clearly done talking about it. She brushed past Mabel on her way to the kitchen. "When will you be done in London?"

"Oh, I'm not sure, actually. I guess it all depends on what they need. I might end up staying for a while." She got more excited the more she thought about it. She tried to tamp it down. She and Alfie had a few things they needed to work out.

Her mother poked her head out of the kitchen looking confused and concerned. "But what about Daniel?"

Mabel looked at her blankly for a moment, then said, "Oh, bollocks."

"MABEL!" her mother squawked.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said as she raced up the stairs to pack.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charcoal barrels, or charred oak barrels, are used in rum production to make 'dark rum' as opposed to light rum. Dark rum is aged longer and is generally more expensive.


	15. Chapter 15

Mabel spent ten minutes throwing clothes towards her suitcase before she made herself stop and take a breath. She calculated, and decided that Daniel would be home by now. She sighed. She'd almost forgotten about this part. For all she was sure she didn't want Daniel, he really was a gentleman. He'd been nothing but the man you always hope you could bring home to your parents.

Fuck, what was she doing? Mabel put the shirt she was folding back on the bed and sat, all the wind taken out of her sails. This might be the dumbest mistake she'd ever made. She was actually considering trading in Daniel, a kind, thoughtful, and handsome man with a stable future, for Alfie, a completely mental gangster who was absolutely not kind, or thoughtful, and could very possibly not have a future at all. Worse, she wasn't really considering it, she was running toward it as fast as she could.

' _This is the stuff you make fun of other girls for doing_ ,' she berated herself. ' _There's not even a pros and cons list here unless you're talking about one of each._ ' She threw herself back on the bed. Ugh. Her mind ran through images of Daniel brushing her cheek, bringing her gifts, eating dinner with her parents, complete with appropriate dinner topics, and being a perfect gentleman when she clearly offered him more than the thoroughly satisfactory kiss on her front step. "Bollocks," she said again. He would be a wonderful husband, and probably a wonderful father, and he'd attend Sabbath with her family and her mother would _beam_ at her. She could see the next 20, 30, 40 years stretched before her, comfortable and content.

Then, without warning, she had a flash of Alfie. He wasn't yelling at someone, or stalking around his office like a caged animal, or even ripping her clothes off. It was his eyes, bright with admiration at one of her ideas. Then another flash on the heels of that, of his arms around her, shushing in her ear as she cried, with a dead man at her feet. The man he'd put there to save her. Of him looking her in the eyes when she'd finally calmed and said, "I knew you were in there somewhere." She remembered feeling like he'd really seen her then. Not the vulnerable, raw and broken girl she'd been moments before, but the woman she'd built herself into, painstakingly and one mistake at a time-the one she was proud to be. And he'd been looking for her. Then he'd taken her to his home, removed her shoes and tucked her into his very own bed. He'd recognized she'd need a place to stay and done everything in his ample, dubious power to make it less horrible.

She felt a small smile tug at the corner of her mouth. She wouldn't be able to bring him home to her parents; he wouldn't want to come. But he would care about her, and look for her when she lost herself. He'd watch out for her when she couldn't and be proud of what she could do on her own. With Alfie, she couldn't see past next week let alone 40 years in the future, and she was willing to bet that he couldn't either. And for some reason, this thought wasn't scary. It was comforting.

She headed downstairs to call Daniel.

* * *

Daniel brought her to the park, bought her a cone of chips and they sat on the slightly chilly bench sharing them. She looked at his profile, his sharp nose and slicked back hair and thought, ' _Are you sure Mabe? You could love this man. He might even make it easy.'_

"Daniel," she started. He turned to her, chewing chips and sucking the salt off his fingers.

"Hmm?"

"I wanted to talk to you."

Daniel binned the chip wrapper in the can next to them, then stretched his arms out over the back of the bench. He appeared bemused, and she faltered. Then he actually smiled.

"What?" she asked. "Why are you smiling?"

"Oh, no reason, I suppose. Just, I've heard this speech before. I could probably say it for you."

Mabel was taken aback. "What speech?" she asked, as if she hadn't been practicing it in her head for an hour.

"The Dear John speech, of course. Did you want to do the whole thing? I can listen, if you'd like." He pretended to get more comfortable on the bench.

"That's not fair, how did you know? I didn't even start with, 'We need to talk.'" she fake pouted and he smiled, wide and genuine. She hadn't seen that smile on him before, it made him look younger. Carefree. She felt herself smiling back, an honest smile, and wondered if he'd ever seen her smile like that before. She felt a twinge if guilt at the thought.

"Oh, I've been down this particular road. Although, I'm usually on the other end. Not always, but usually."

"Really?" For some reason, she hadn't pictured him with other girls, although of course he'd have gone with some before he met her. He just struck her as too nice to be the dumper and not the dumpee.

"Mmm," he replied, eyes surveying the park around them. "I was rather hoping I wouldn't have to do this with you, though." She found she didn't have a reply that wasn't 'I'm sorry', and that seemed the wrong thing to say.

"I was pretty worried, you know, when your father first invited me to dinner with his family," he continued.

"No, I didn't know."

"I knew what he was doing, of course, who invites their young unmarried co-workers home to meet their family if they're not playing matchmaker? I'm sure you've been shoved into a meeting or two like that." She felt herself nod slightly in response. "I thought, 'Dear God, she must be a troll' but I couldn't very well say 'No' to my boss now, could I?" He lifted his hand from the back of the bench and brought it to her face. His fingers were cold, and they felt good against her too-warm skin as he brushed his thumb across her cheekbone. "Imagine my surprise when I found you instead," he said, fondly. "You were so lovely, and I decided right then and there to be exactly the kind of man I should have always been. Because you were a rare gift, and a coincidence too perfect to not grab with both hands."

Mabel leaned into his hand, her eyes fluttered shut. If he was trying to make her feel guilty, he was doing a bang-up job of it.

"I am sorry that I let it slip through my fingers," he said, softly.

She kept her eyes shut tight, afraid if she opened them the tears lurking behind her eyelids would fall and fall and fall. This wasn't his fault, and she would not let him feel like it was. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, "Daniel."

"I had a lovely time, honestly. Your friends are fabulously fun," he said, withdrawing his hand.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I had a lovely-"

"Don't." The sharpness of his tone surprised her into looking up and meeting his eyes. "Just, don't." He didn't seem angry, just resigned. He went back to surveying the park, smiling at an older couple walking past them.

"No," she said with enough force to draw looks from the couple before they shuffled on their way. "Daniel, none of this is your fault. None of it, yeah? You're splendid, and I'm the one who..." she broke off and sighed. "I'm apparently every stupid girl I've ever made fun of."

He smiled and leaned toward her, grasping both her hands in his. "You don't have to be if you don't want," he said it calmly, confidently.

She smiled at him, wearily. "I'm moving back to London."

He considered this a moment, searching her face although she didn't know what he was hoping to see. It was just her. "Fine," he declared. "I can move to London too. If you'd like me there, of course."

Mabel gaped at him. "But...you can't just...your job, and you..."

He shrugged one shoulder. "Eh, I can be an investment banker in London. Besides, it might be nice to not be dating the boss's daughter, yeah?" He grinned at her and waggled his eyebrows. She couldn't help it, she chuckled. "So, what do you think?" he asked. "Should we try London?"

The smile slid off her face. This was the part she'd been hoping she could avoid. But she chewed her lip and then forged ahead saying, "Daniel, there's...there's someone else."

The change in him was immediate as his face turned to stone and she saw a river of steel running through his body that she'd never previously suspected was there. He dropped her hands like they were venomous.

She hastened to add, "Not while we've been...together, just from before. And I want to see if I...if _we_ can make it work."

He appeared to think this over. He sat back again, surveying the park. "Why?" he asked calmly.

It was a fair question. It wasn't any of his business, and he would accept it if she'd told him that, but it was, in fact, a question she'd been asking herself. For a long time, she didn't answer him. Then she said, thoughtfully, "I don't know, exactly. Because I want to, I suppose. He's absolutely not right for me, he's dangerous and loud and demanding and exciting and passionate and God, it would be like dating a volcano. We've had sex on his desk for crying out loud."

Daniel cleared his throat. "For the record, I would definitely have been interested in doing that also."

Mabel laughed, her brown eyes twinkling and friendly. He was funny. And smart, and interesting, and possessed of a strength she hadn't seen before. Suddenly, 40 years in the future was looking pretty fuzzy. She realized for the first time that she wasn't letting him go, she was giving him up. He was much too good for her, and she told him so.

"If this is the man you always wanted to be, then you have good taste," she continued. "Except in women, of course. You should have higher standards."

"Oh, I don't know about that." He smiled at her, fondly, and she ducked her head. She didn't want it to be, but it was true. She was making the stupid choice, because...well, because she was stupid. Alfie really was what she wanted, and all the stupidity that came with it.

"Daniel. I need to do this. I owe it to him, but mostly I owe it to myself to give this a shot."

He shrugged. "You want to tame a volcano. I can understand the appeal."

She looked at him, surprised. She thought about it, then said, "No, not tame. Never that. I just want to be the first to walk on the molten rock."

He gave her an appraising look, then nodded once. Mabel reached into her purse for the slim box she'd brought. Inside was the necklace he'd bought her, the one she'd liked more than she wanted to, and the one she felt guilty wearing even though she wasn't with Alfie. He took one look at the unopened box and shook his head. He leaned forward, forearms on his elegant suit trousers, eyes on the park again. "Keep it."

"I couldn't, Daniel, it cost far too much and I wouldn't want..."

"Keep it. That's not about me. Or him. It's about you. It's yours because it suits you. That's why I bought it: because I saw it and thought of this captivating woman who looked like she could use some cheering up. Keep it, ok?" he asked her, then took her hand again, and squeezed her fingers. "That way you'll have it if you ever need to be cheered up in the future." She smiled, squeezed back, and finally nodded. "Or, you can always give me a call and I'll come talk to you. I genuinely enjoy your company Miss Mabel, I would be even more grieved if I thought it was now gone forever."

"I will," she surprised herself by saying. "And thank you, Daniel. I really did have a lovely time."

"And I, as well." Then he stood and held out his hand for hers to walk her home.

* * *

"Oh, my sweet Lord. Hazel, please tell me I'm doing the right thing."

Hazel had plunked herself unhelpfully on the middle of Mabel's bed and was currently watching her pack while chewing a piece of gum. Loudly.

"Well, does it feel like it?"

Mabel paused in her frenzied packing, then resumed. "I don't know. Besides, that's a terrible way to make decisions. I feel a million things right now."

Hazel shrugged, unconcerned, and popped her gum. Loudly.

"Well, I suppose you already know what I'd do."

Mabel laughed. "Yeah, you'd do both of them."

"No. I'd pick Daniel."

Mabel stopped and looked at her friend. "You...you would?"

"Mmm. In a heartbeat."

"But...really?"

"Of course." Hazel looked at her calmly, surrounded by piles of Mabel's things, and looking every inch the spoiled socialite Mabel knew she was.

" _Really_?" Mabel asked one more time.

"YES, Mabel, Jesus."

"But, why? I never thought you'd be interested in someone like him."

Hazel rolled her eyes. "I'm going to assume you mean an investment banker and not a smart, gorgeous, kind, generous man with a great sense of humor and respect for women, and seriously, what else could you ask for? No one else I've dated was any of those things."

"Nor were they investment bankers. You can see my confusion."

Hazel rolled her eyes again and picked up a nearby article of clothing, folding it absentmindedly.

"I didn't know you wanted anything like that," Mabel said faintly. She wondered how long she'd been underestimating her best friend.

She shrugged. "I'm human as the next girl. Sure, I like to go out and have fun, but when I come home, it'd be nice to know someone will be there, they'd be happy to see me, and they'd hug me to show me they were."

Apparently for a while, it seemed. Mabel thought about the implications of what Hazel had said, and realized she'd been very unobservant for a long time if nothing else.

"You know," Mabel started. "I hear he's recently single."

Hazel grinned and shoved her. "Shut up. I don't need your handouts."

"Maybe you do. I hear he's into having sex on desks."

"I don't even want to know how you found that out."

"Sure you do. But I'm going to wait until you ask me, nicely, before I tell you the story. Maybe even buy me dinner. I'm not just going to throw it out there, hoping you're interested. I'm not that kind of girl."

And Hazel popped her gum. Loudly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love to my beta, Lystan, who might be a little in love with DavidDaniel herself.


	16. Chapter 16

She stepped off the (very early) morning train and dragged in a lungful of London smog. Ugh. Lincoln was big, but it didn't have this. She straightened her new periwinkle blue dress, pleased with her purchase, and wondered what Alfie would think. Then she shook her head at herself. ' _What is it about that man that turns me into a simpering idiot?_ ' She grabbed her bags and headed for her hotel. She might as well freshen up, the day shift at the bakery hadn't even started yet, damn Alfie all to hell. She smiled at the thought.

They'd remembered her at the hotel, assured her that her rate was still the same (almost non-existent) but fell all over themselves explaining that her room had been rented. She assured them it was fine, found her new room and unpacked quickly, then spent the rest of the hour going over possible outcomes of the upcoming conversation in her head. When it was time, she walked the short way to the bakery, stomach fluttering.

She let herself in, movement pausing as she walked through the production floor. She saw nods and a few smiles from her (former) co-workers but she reminded herself that she hadn't exactly said goodbye last time. She wondered what they thought of her. Then Abe appeared in front of her, smiling to beat the band and wrapped her up in a hug.

"Oof!" she let out a surprised sound. "I guess Alfie was right, you did miss me."

He gave her a confused look, but answered, "I did. We _all_ did," he stressed. Mabel blushed. "I wasn't sure if he would call you or if he would get stuck on himself again."

She said, "Well, he did call, but time will tell about the rest of it."

"He's in there. I'll leave you alone. But let me know if you need me, ok? Or kick him in the bollocks. He's scary, but he's still just a man." Abe left her with a grin.

Mabel fidgeted, then headed towards Alfie's office and opened the door slowly. She saw him standing next to his desk, spectacles on his nose and a sheaf of papers in his hands. He looked up as the door opened, then paused. Slowly he set his glasses and papers on the desk and looked like he was trying to find the right words.

The silence stretched and Mabel opened her mouth to say something hopefully funny. Then Alfie dried his palms on his legs and said, "Fuck it." Quickly he walked over to grasp Mabel's face in both his hands. He looked deep into her eyes and then he kissed her, long and thorough and perfect. He kissed her, and kissed her, and _kissed_ her like he was drowning, and she struggled to keep up. She packed three weeks of missing him, and late nights staring at her ceiling, and conversations only half-heard because her head was full of him into that kiss. And he was still overwhelming her. She held on and prayed it would never end because after countless times of trying to remember exactly the way he smelled, suddenly she was wrapped up in him. She was surrounded by the woodsy, heady scent of Alfie and he was kissing her and she stopped thinking. She threaded her fingers through his beard, then buried them in the short hair on the back of his head, tugging. He licked into her mouth and he tasted of rum and lightening and home.

She finally broke away, panting, because she still needed to breathe, and he rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed and breaths brushing her face. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and slipped her arms under his, wrapping them around him and hugging him, hard. She'd missed him, his solid warmth and undeniable presence.

She heard his breath hitch, and she felt awed by this small sound, almost like an admission. Then she heard a low moan squeak out of him. She dropped her arms, panicking. "What it is, what's wrong?" she asked quickly, eyes searching his.

"Broken...ribs..." he grunted, his face clenched in pain.

"Oh my god, you stupid, stupid man," she scolded, rushing him over to his chair and helping him settle into it. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know, I didn't mean to..."

"'S fine," he waved her off, breath and voice returning mostly to normal.

"What happened?! Are you ok?" She was reluctant to leave his side, instead squatted next to his chair and looked questioningly at him, watching for signs of pain.

"It's fine, most of the time. Should be healed in a few weeks, 's no big deal, yeah? Just takes a little longer to get dressed, 's all." He smiled at her, the edges of his eyes crinkling the way she'd remembered. She felt the worry slowly seep out of her and she returned his smile, trying to picture him putting on his boots.

"Who did this?" she asked gently.

"Mmph. I wanted to talk to you about that, yeah?"

Mabel looked confused, wary. He leaned forward, looking carefully at her.

"Sabini did this. War's gettin' worse, and I need to know. I need to know that you want this, London, Camden, the bakery...me." His eyes held hers, serious and intent. "Because if you do, and we do this, being even more connected with me could be dangerous for you."

Mabel wanted to say yes and throw herself into his arms where he would kiss her senseless again, but she realized the gravity of what he was telling her. He was giving her a choice, a way out, if she wanted it.

"What...what kind of dangerous?"

Alfie sat back. "Mmph. I'm not sure, exactly. But I'd need to be prepared that they'd try to get to me through you. That means keeping it quiet as long as we can, then letting me protect you after that."

And Mabel tried to think about it, really think. Suddenly the week she could barely picture before stretched into months, years, of hiding and fighting, a constant struggle of more Ollie's, more than just broken ribs, and finally, standing over his gravesite, surrounded by his men. She shuddered.

He noticed, of course. But he stayed still, watching, waiting.

"Can I...think about it?"

"Mmph," he nodded in assent. "But not long, yeah?"

"Alright," she stood, legs tingling from crouching.

"Mabel," he stopped her, fingers grasping hers. "I _would_ protect you. I want you to know that. I would never let anything happen to you, yeah? That's not nothing."

"No, it's not," she replied and she squeezed his fingers. His breath hitched and her eyes jerked to his. "Oh my god, your fingers too?! Is there anywhere else on you that I should avoid for fear of hurting you?"

"No," he said, forcefully. "Nothing at all."

She looked at him, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes fierce. She nodded and he relaxed and she stepped close to him. With her fingers, she smoothed his eyebrows, brushing away the worry and tenseness there. Then she traced his nose and cheekbones and then ran her fingertips through his hair, massaging his head. She kept stroking his scalp, over and over, applying pressure and then pulling his hair through her fingers, tugging at the end. His eyes drifted closed and he let out a faint sigh through his nose. He leaned his head against her chest and wrapped his arms around her waist and they stayed that way, her petting and him hugging and they soaked away three weeks of missing.

Eventually, she pulled away and said, "I'm going to my hotel. I've got a few things think about, and no offense, but I don't tend to think rationally around you."

Alfie grinned lasciviously and let her go. "Right," he said, his jovial nature back in place. "Well, whatever you decide, you've got a job here."

Mabel took it for the compliment it was and nothing more. She nodded, but she knew that if she decided to walk away from him, she would be walking far, far away. There was no way she'd be able to work next to him day in and day out and not have him. It would be torture of the highest form. She kissed his cheek and let herself out.

He watched her go and tried to decide how much time could reasonably be considered "not long".

* * *

Mabel's mind fluttered and she couldn't focus on any one thing, so she watched the tips of her shoes striking the pavement. It was still fairly early (thanks again, Alfie), and it was warm in the sun, so when she reached the front of the hotel, she slowed but didn't stop. She let her thoughts drift where they may and finally realized she'd been thinking about Alfie for quite a while and still hadn't come anywhere near making a decision. She probably needed to think less about Alfie and more about the situation he'd described.

Technically, she'd always been in danger. Working with Alfie was a risk no matter how close you were to him. She had aligned herself with him a long time ago, and while they'd never technically been "a couple", she wasn't exactly sure how soundproof his office was. She wouldn't have been surprised if people knew they were occasionally more than co-workers. Alfie seemed to think the danger was more possible now, which was definitely something to think about. He wasn't a man to cower in the face of threats, which was why this was well and truly her decision. She rolled that around for a while but couldn't come up with any new items on the pros and cons list in her head.

She started thinking about Alfie again, about what it could be like if she stayed. She wasn't sure how Alfie would define them and what he might consider the difference between keeping their relationship 'quiet' and keeping it 'a secret'. They needed to talk.

A particularly loud rumble from her belly reminded her that she'd missed breakfast and now she'd been walking so long probably lunch as well. She sighed and mentally plotted out a meandering route back to the hotel. She wanted to get her own head sorted out before she saw him again because they also needed to talk about the reason she left London in the first place. He had apologized (albeit in a very Alfie way), which, while a requirement of hers, wasn't actually something she'd thought he would do. If she decided to stay, they definitely needed to lay some ground rules for working together, something they should have done long ago.

Yes, they needed to talk. But now that she had a list of pros and cons to staying in Camden and specific things she wanted to talk to him about, she felt better. Her shoulders unhitched from her ears and she took a deep breath. The day was beautiful, and she was going to talk to Alfie, and afterward...who knew?

When she finally found her way back to the hotel, she felt grimy and worn out. She headed towards the managers desk to have them fill the copper tub in her room because a hot bath sounded heavenly. However, when she got there, she could see he was busy being verbally thrashed by a man complaining that their room had been broken into and wasn't he going to do something about it because they were owed and by god, someone was going to pay. She tried to catch the manager's eye to give him a look of sympathy, but he was cowering, saying the police should be here any minute to investigate. Mabel doubted the police would do any such thing and apparently the man at the front desk was of the same mind because he relaunched his verbal assault. She decided it might be better to ask about the tub later. As she headed down the hallway to her room, she could hear the dramatic wailings of a woman bemoaning the state of her remaining possessions. With a start, Mabel realized it was coming from her old room. _'Well, I guess I can add London crime on my con's list.'_ She smiled wryly at the irony of _her_ complaining about the crime in this city as she entered her new room, thinking desperately of washing off the grit from her walk.

The door was slammed shut behind her and she spun around, heart pumping. Two oily-looking men advanced towards her, both holding guns and pointing them straight at her. They were dressed in dark suits, the shorter one had a thin, black mustache, the larger was young--much too young to be wearing the malicious grin he had on his face.

"Look, doll, we don't want to have to hurt--," said Mustache, but she's heard enough. She heaved her entire body weight toward Babyface, the closer of the two men, even though he was taller and heavier than her. Her shoulder hit him in the diaphragm and he let out a surprised, "Oof!" She tried to use her momentum to get around him and to the door, hallway, escape but Mustache grabbed her upper arm and twisted her back. Fear started blocking out her thought process. She _knew_ the longer it took her to get to the door, the greater chance she'd be hurt. She had to get away. She fought them with every muscle, every fingernail, elbows and feet flying. She tried yelling for help, pounding her heels on the floor, and she promised herself she wasn't going to give in. But despite her best efforts, Babyface soon had an arm around her throat, seemingly determined to crush her windpipe. Mustache was advancing, and she heard Abe's voice in her head. " _Kick him in the bollocks. He's scary, but he's still just a man_." With all her might, she lashed out, aiming for that sensitive spot. But Mustache anticipated her move and caught her ankle before she could hit him. Then, he started lifting it. He kept lifting until she was off balance, and then grabbed her other ankle. The two men had her suspended in the air, stretched out between them, Mustache holding her ankles and Babyface holding her by his forearm under her neck. It hurt, her weight supported by her neck, making each breath a task she had to focus on. She started seeing stars bursting across her vision, but still she swung her limbs, uselessly trying to hit legs, forearms, anything.

Both men were breathing hard from their efforts, and she tried to focus on breathing too, but her sight was starting to go black around the edges. The darkness was crowding in, and she tried one final time, scratching her fingernails down his arms ineffectively, her brain buzzing with terror at the thought of what would happen to her if she passed out.

Then, suddenly, blessed relief as sweet, sweet oxygen flooded her. She gulped down lungfuls of it, reverently acknowledging the heaviness of it on her tongue, regretting every moment before when she had never even noticed how air was the most precious thing in her life. She barely registered that they'd bound her hands behind her back with strips torn from her bedsheets until they were using strips of the same sheet to gag her. Her eyes flew wide as they restricted her beloved oxygen again and she tried to cry out, her bruised throat croaking against the cloth. She focused on drawing air into her lungs through her nose as Babyface shoved her, stumbling onto the bed.

She stopped moving, trying desperately to catch her breath and think of a plan. She heard them arguing, hushed stressed tones.

"...can't just shoot her, the boss wants her for bait."

"Well, why'd we bring the fuckin' guns then if we weren't gonna use them?" Babyface said. She flicked her eyes without moving and spotted one gun on the floor a few feet away. Her hands were tied, but maybe if she could...

"Because we were supposed to scare her into getting in the fuckin' car, ya dumb shite!" Mustache said.

"Fine! Let's get her in the fuckin' car then! And stop fuckin' callin' me that!"

"Fine! You walk her out of here, tied up and gagged, past a dozen people and possibly coppers that are only here because YOU can't find out a FUCKIN' ROOM NUMBER! YOU DUMB SHITE!" Mustache's voice had risen too loudly and they both paused, glaring at each other with fists clenched.

Mabel hesitated for only a second, then heaved herself off the bed as quickly as she could in order to scramble for the door. Both men made to grab her, which was why they were unarmed and unprepared when the door burst open and Abe entered, gun drawn and scowling face telling them to not fucking move a fucking muscle. His stance and tone screamed authority, and both men froze in spite of themselves, Mustache's fingers digging into her already sore upper arm. From where she knelt on the floor, Abe looked murderous, and she had no doubt in her mind that he would use that gun, expertly, at the slightest provocation. Then she heard a familiar voice and her heart stopped for a half-beat before starting again at three times the speed.

"Well, what have we here, gentlemen?" Alfie's form appeared in the doorway in a slow cloud of black coat and walking stick, his jovial tone not disguising the fact that he was wrathful death, and he was furious.

For a second, no one moved. Then Mustache lunged for the gun but Alfie was faster. He took one step and swung his walking stick into Mustache's face, crunching bone and snapping off teeth. His head jerked back and he screamed, blood pumping from his nose. Alfie reared back and hit him again, breaking something else in his face this time and sprawling him on his back.

And then Alfie kept hitting him, arcing his walking stick through the air over, and over, smacking into meat and bone and splattering blood with every swing. He kept on, even after Mustache stopped moving and his face was an unrecognizable pulp smashed into the floor. There was so much blood, it sprayed the walls, ceiling, and Mabel with its warm, red attestation. Eventually, his walking stick snapped and he stopped, chest heaving and his face manic.

He rounded on Babyface, who had been frozen under Abe's glare, watching the proceedings over his shoulder with a horrified fascination. When Alfie faced him, though, he recoiled in fear, hands raised and backing up until he ran into Abe's gun jabbing him fiercely in the back.

"N...n...no! Mr. Solomons, please! Please. Ok? Just, please."

"Shut the fuck up." Alfie leaned over nonchalantly and retrieved one of the guns that had fallen, forgotten, during the men's struggle with Mabel.

Abe pivoted to stand next to Alfie, and together the two men stared him down.

Alfie's face was vicious and terrifying. "Tell Sabini..." Alfie started and then shot him in the head. Blood and bone painted the wall behind him, and Mabel screamed, the sound torn from her painful throat and muffled by the gag.

Alfie turned to her and quickly removed it, just in time for her to turn her head and heave the meager contents of her stomach onto the floor, her hands still tied behind her.

He rose, slipping the gun into his coat, and went to Abe. "We are starting this. We are _ending_ this. Get the boys together and tell those fucking Birmingham _fucks_ that we are cashing in. Understand? We are cashing in. Tonight, 21:00. We meet them at the line."

"Right, boss," and he left.

Mabel thought then that Alfie would come to her, _needed_ him to come to her, but he only threw her few unpacked items into her bags before cutting her loose. He used the sheet strips to wipe flecks of blood from his face as she rubbed some feeling back into her sore wrists.

"Can you walk?" He still hadn't looked her in the eye. She nodded and he helped her rise. When she was standing and close enough to see his face, she realized his usually immovable mask was slipping. He looked raw and exposed, desperately trying to hold it together. She wanted to gather him to her and have them hold each other for a thousand years.

"We have to go, now," he said instead, rigid and brittle.

She nodded again and he gave her a clean handkerchief from his pocket. For a moment, she wasn't sure what to do with it, then looked down at her ruined dress. She used the cloth to wipe her face, scrubbing too hard, and he lead her down the hallway, her bags in his hand.

They stopped by the front desk where the manager was cringing away from them.

"Give me the register. Now," he said and the manager scrambled to comply.

Alfie scratched something while Mabel nervously swept her eyes over the lobby. She badly wished she could appear as unaffected as Alfie pretended to be, or at least that she wasn't shaking like a leaf on a tree.

"You never saw us, yeah? Those were Sabini's men, and if anyone asks, so was the person staying in room 217. And that's all you know, yeah?"

The man nodded frantically and Alfie deposited a large roll of notes onto the counter. "I'll send someone by to help clean up."

"No...no need, Mr. Solomons," the terrified man squeaked out.

Alfie nodded and dropped a few more pounds on the counter before they left, climbing into Alfie's car and pulling away. Mabel had a sense of deja vu as she rode next to him, slumped against the window and was mildly surprised that the sun was still out, shining merrily. It seemed a long time ago that she'd walked happily in the warmth and it felt like they sky should be filled with black, ominous clouds.

Her feeling of deja vu only intensified when they pulled up to the curb and Alfie walked her, once again, into his house.


	17. Chapter 17

Mabel was still shaking as she entered Alfie's home, so he pulled out a dining room chair and made her sit. He disappeared for a few moments and immediately a deluge of violent and graphic images assaulted her. She closed her eyes, _tight, tighter, tighter, how tight can you shut your eyes, Mabe? If you shut them hard enough, will it go away? If you can stop thinking about it, does that mean you won't see it when you open your eyes? If..._ and she jerked when a hand touched her leg. She recoiled unthinkingly and her eyes flew open-and there was Alfie, kneeling in front of her with a damp flannel in his hand and a brief flash of hurt in his eyes. Then it was gone, and he set the flannel down and instead helped her stand so he could guide her down the hallway to the bathroom.

If she'd been in any shape to notice, Mabel would have been awed by the beautiful, modern room. It was decorated in greens and whites, a tiny oasis in the middle of the house. He led her to the large, clawfoot tub and turned the taps. Taps! On the bathtub! She'd never had a bathtub with taps, usually each washing a tedious chore of heating and dumping buckets of water.

As it was, she stood numbly while the water filled the room with steam and Alfie methodically helped her step out of her shoes, then stood behind her to unzip her dress. When the zip was about halfway down, he paused and she felt him run a thumb over her back, almost tenderly. Then she remembered that she'd worn the lavender chemise today, a million years ago when she'd gotten dressed, thinking about him welcoming her back. He finished unzipping quickly and slid the dress forward off her shoulders. Her beautiful new dress puddled at her feet, an elegant swirl of periwinkle and crimson. She looked away.

But thinking about getting dressed that morning had brought her back to herself somewhat, and she managed to finish undressing while Alfie gathered towel, flannel, and soap and shut off the steady stream of water. He left then, taking the dress with him and she was profoundly thankful. She sank into the warm water and stayed still for a moment, just a moment, before starting to wash. She washed everything twice, sure she'd missed a drop somewhere that would taunt her when she finally saw it. She unpinned her curls, letting them fall down her back and then washed her hair too. She knew she was taking too long, and that Alfie would probably need to get cleaned up also, but she allowed herself the time it took to scrub her hair clean and detangle it with her fingers.

She stepped out and dried off and was standing in just a towel debating exiting the bathroom wearing that or her undergarments when Alfie knocked and entered, wordlessly holding out a man's dressing gown. She accepted it gratefully and tied it around her before removing her towel.

Alfie took it from her, hesitantly, and said, "I'll buy you a new dress." She realized it was the first thing he'd said to her since he'd asked her if she could walk and ushered her out of the hotel.

"You don't have to do that." Her voice sounded hoarse, and it hurt to talk.

He looked at her then, assessing, and said, "I want to. It was a stunning dress."

And Mabel wondered about the state of her mental health, because for the first time that night, she thought she might cry. She stepped closer to him and saw that he must have washed because his hair and beard were wet and his collar was still damp in places. She looked into his face and saw...fear. His eyes pleaded with her wordlessly, and she couldn't wrap her arms around him fast enough. He buried his face in her neck and they stood, unmoving, breathing together. His body was rigid and one wrong move might shatter him.

"Alfie," she said, softly. He froze, his body stiffening even further. "Alfie, look at me. Please?"

He pulled back, eyes wary, ready to go on offense or defense at a moment's notice.

Her voice croaked, but she needed him to know this. "I was so glad to see you. There is no one I would have rather seen come through that door than you."

Then he kissed her, and even though it had been her trying to comfort him, she was lost. She had known the moment that Alfie had shown up that he was going to do something awful, and she had still been happier to see him than a thousand policemen. She knew that he was there for one reason, to keep his promise and protect her. She felt some of the tension leaving his shoulders, and she tried, with that kiss, to tell him everything she couldn't say. Yes, the violence disturbed her, and yes, she knew and had always known, that he was a man capable of horrible things, but when he walked into that room, she'd never felt more safe.

* * *

Alfie carried a plate covered in a cloth to the dining room table and proceeded to place half of the food on a second plate. The late afternoon sun shone through the window and she watched his hands working. She was sure she wouldn't be able to eat a bite, but when he slid one of the plates toward her, she remembered she hadn't eaten at all that day. She fell on the food, eating only slowly enough not to appear rude.

While she ate, she watched Alfie, sitting across from her. He ate with a clinical detachment, efficiently, and she wondered if he always ate like that, or if he was as shaken as she felt. She realized she'd never seen him eat before. She had seen so much of Alfie, but there was so much that she didn't know. She'd seen him at his worst: raw, and malicious, and frenetic, and at his best too: caring, and funny, and passionate. She had seen the animal that lurked beneath the man, and now she tried to reconcile him with the man whose head she'd massaged that morning and the one in the bathroom, whose eyes had pleaded with her to stay, to not hate him. She'd seen firsthand the vengefulness that he usually kept contained, and instead of being frightened, all she wanted to do was comfort him. Mabel stopped eating to reach for his hand across the table.

* * *

This is why. This is why Abe didn't think Mabel should have come back, and fuck it all if he wasn't right. He was the world's biggest prat for even calling her, she was perfectly safe and he fucked it all up. Alfie had been mentally berating himself since they got in the car and he drove her to his home. This was the second time she'd been in his house because he'd killed someone in front of her. Good God, what was she doing with him? He fed her ruined dress to the fire and watched it smoke until it finally caught, bright flames licking and consuming.

He wasn't sorry. He wasn't. He would have done it anyway, probably, even if he'd known it would make her go that ashy grey colour and throw up. Of course it made her throw up because she didn't deal with this, ever. Because she was a good person and not a criminal and shouldn't have even been a part of this war. Alfie's jaw hardened at that. She _shouldn't_ have been a part of this war, and FUCK Sabini for dragging her into it. He hadn't considered Sabini would pull something like this so soon, how had he even found out about her? It had to have been someone at the bakery, and they had to have been there this morning when Mabel came in. He needed to get ahold of Abe before they...the touch of Mabel's hand on his made the roaring fire of his thoughts dissipate in a wisp of smoke.

She was so beautiful and she had flinched when he'd touched her and god, he was such an arse. He swallowed past the ache in his chest as he turned his hand over to meet hers, palm to palm. He watched her fingers trace his and knew what a horrible, horrible person he was. It wasn't because of everything he'd done in the past, thought he'd done some abhorrent things. And it wasn't because of the things he was sure to do in the future, both near and far. It was because of right now. Right when he should let her go, _tell_ her to go, he was going to hold on with both hands and hope she didn't think of it herself.

Refusing to scare her again, Alfie moved slowly, deliberately out of his chair and toward her. He stood next to her, looking into her upturned face and trying to memorize every eyelash, every freckle. He twirled one damp curl around his hand, fingering the silky length. He watched his fingers slide down slowly, every inch of the glossy strands sending sparks up his arm. When he reached the tip, he looked at her eyes and saw her pupils blown wide with desire, her lips slightly parted. She saw him staring and her tongue flickered out in anticipation.

"Alfie..."

But Alfie stopped her by bringing his thumb along her lower lip. He pulled her lip down softly and she caught his thumb in her mouth, sucking gently. Alfie groaned faintly, then replaced his thumb with his mouth. He kissed her slowly, urging her to stand, like they had all the time in the world. She met him readily, tongues sliding together as he delved into her familiar taste. He nibbled her lower lip and then made her gasp when he found that perfect spot below her ear. Alfie slipped his hand into her dressing gown, cupping her breast. She let out a breathy moan against Alfie's neck and he started to think all the time in the world was taking too long. He stooped to lift her by the hips and settle her legs around his waist, then recaptured her mouth. She crossed her ankles behind his back and he carried her towards the bedroom, kissing her reverently.

Alfie deposited her on the bed with a bounce and she grinned up at him. He crawled up her legs, returning her grin and she reached for his face to kiss it off of him. He deftly untied her dressing gown, spreading it open and pulling back to look at her. She was glorious, heavy-lidded eyes and red-kissed mouth, nipples taught in the warm air. He ran his fingertips up her miles of legs, mapping calves, knees, the inside of her thighs. Her breathing sped up as he brushed the backs of his fingers over the soft curls between her legs, but she stopped him.

"Hey, absolutely not, you're taking your shoes off this time."

She sat up and let the dressing gown slide off her shoulders, then she removed her arms from the fabric and reached for him. She kissed him while deftly undoing buttons, and Alfie tried to touch every inch of her satiny skin he could reach, not caring when he got in her way. She grinned at his singlemindedness but made him stop to remove his boots and socks. Together they finished undressing him and he marveled at the wonder on her face as she stared at him. He reached for her but she stopped him again and he made a noise of protest.

"Just...I want to see you. Good God, you are magnificent," she said.

He shook his head at her ruefully and reached for her again. He kissed her while he ran his broad palm over her, starting at her hip, up over her ribs and breasts and up her neck. He grasped her jaw, his long fingers wrapping around the base of her skull and he could feel her hands on him, outlining and plotting, memorizing him as he was memorizing her.

He kissed his way to her breasts, taking one nipple in his mouth and then the other, lavishing them until she was whining, her hips rolling beneath him. He reached between them to explore her heat, his mouth never leaving her breast, tongue flicking lightly and his fingers mimicking his movements. Her back arched into him.

"Oh! Oh, godohgodohgod, Alfie."

His name in that breathless plea drove all remaining rational thinking out of his brain and he couldn't wait any longer. As he reached down, prepared to guide himself into her, she pushed his hand away and wrapped her thin fingers around his shaft instead, stroking upwards over and over and it was his turn to groan, low and insistent. She didn't stop, though, adding a twist at the end that was almost his undoing.

"Ungh! Mabe, ungh! Mabel," he panted.

He was embarrassingly close, so to distract her he found that spot below her ear with his tongue and when he licked from there to her earlobe and drew it into his mouth, she almost came off the bed.

"Ah! Oh, fuck, Alfie."

"Yeah, that." He brushed her hand away and slowly, too slowly, pushed into her. She raised her leg to hitch around his hip, pushing back and taking him in that much further, until he was buried in her. He paused for a moment, getting himself together and pulled back to look at her. She looked positively debauched, her hair fanning over his pillow and her lips swollen from kisses but the part that took his breath away was the look of trust in her eyes. He didn't deserve it, but God damn if he wasn't going to take it. He kissed her, fiercely, and began to move. Mabel planted her other heel on the mattress and met him thrust for thrust, their speed increasing as three weeks of longing caught up with them. He drove into her, relishing the noises he could draw out of her.

She was slick and hot and tight and he couldn't get enough. He was inside her and he already wanted her again, and again, tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. He wanted to slow down, to make it last, but he could see her starting to come apart below him. Her muscles quivered around him and focused on her pleasure until she screamed his name and he tumbled after her, spinning out of control.

She held him as he came back to earth, hugging him with arms and legs, a blissed out smile on her face. He'd never seen anything more exquisite. She sighed softly as he withdrew, and he used the dressing gown that was still under her to clean them both up a bit. Then he reached for the afghan at the foot of the bed, curled up behind her and raised it over both of them. He lay there, breathing in the scent of her hair that smelled like his soap and felt, just for a moment, at peace. He raised himself up on one elbow to look at her face. She looked...happy. Content. And awake.

"Go to sleep, woman," he whispered.

"Mmm," she hummed and closed her eyes.

He watched her for a few seconds, waiting for her breath to even out, then dropped the barest of kisses on her shoulder before laying his own head down. He missed the soft smile it caused, but it was there.

* * *

When Mabel woke, it was dark, and she was alone. She called his name but knew that he was gone, fighting a war he might lose. She sat in his bed, surrounded by the heady, warm, woodsy scent that was Alfie and cried. She cried tears for all they'd been through, all they would be going through, and all the things she couldn't bear to think about going through without him.


	18. Chapter 18

Mabel paced. She had already spent hours scouring every inch of Alfie's house, raiding the kitchen, and flipping uselessly through one of Alfie's many, many books. She couldn't focus on the words, couldn't sit still. So she paced. She had found a box next to the bed when she woke containing a beautiful new dress. She smiled as she made use of Alfie's fantastic bathroom (taps! on the bathtub!), because he really must have liked the last one. This one was stylish, with a long torso and dropped waist, but more practical than she'd expected and she appreciated it. But it was the exact same periwinkle color.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She jotted a note in case Alfie came back and left. She walked to the bakery, mind churning and wondering if this was silly. But when she got there, she realized it wasn't silly at all. Alfie wasn't there but the bakery was swarming with injured men, and a chaos that made her switch immediately into business mode. She started directing men who seemed relatively unhurt to cordon off areas for trauma, recovery, and food. Then she went to Alfie's office to use the phone. She hesitated for a moment, then dialed.

"Hello? Hi, Rachel. It's Mabel. Listen, didn't you say you had a friend that's a nurse? Ok, can you call her up and have her meet me at the bakery? We've got a bad situation here, and we've got some men who need medical attention, but we can't exactly go to the hospital. Yes, have her bring them, if they can be discreet. Thanks so much, you're the best."

Mabel focused on the work. She organized wounded by severity, made phone calls to acquire food, water, bandages, and when she was summoned, went to meet the three young women at the front door. They were all dressed in nurses uniforms and carried black bags. The blonde with the cute curled bob introduced herself as Nurse Franklin, Rachel's friend. "And this is Nurse Miller and Nurse Lee. Show us where we can help."

"I'm Mabel. Thank you so much for coming, and thank you for your discretion. Right, this way."

Mabel was grateful that once pointed in the right direction, the ladies took over and moved with confident efficiency. She paused for a moment to admire their poise and that's when she heard his voice. Alfie was screaming about something, frantic and furious and she'd never heard anything so dulcet. He was alive. Whatever else happened that night, her worst fears had been alleviated. She ran to him, desperate to see his face, and when he caught sight of her he broke off immediately and engulfed her in a fierce hug. He kissed her harshly, almost painfully, and gritted out "I couldn't find you." She pulled back to see his face, and it was then that she realized he was covered in blood.

"Oh, god, are you hurt? What's going on, are you ok?" Her hands flew over him, checking for holes.

"'m fine, it's not mine." She breathed out her relief, until he said, "It's Abe's".

Mabel felt the blood drain from her face. Alfie hastened to assure her that he would be ok, he'd been shot and they took him to the hospital but the doctor said he'd be ok.

"He said his bowling career is over, but he'd live."

When the hubbub had died down and people had more or less settled down or gone home, Mabel caught sight of Alfie. He moved, and yelled, and pointed like normal, but there was a tightness to his shoulders and a careful blankness behind his eyes. When he was between tasks he looked shattered and haunted, but he was here and he was whole, and she would be forever indebted to the forces that allowed him to come back to her. The nurses were long gone, the last of the donated food distributed, and she pointedly handed Alfie his coat and hat.

* * *

Alfie felt cool, aloof detachment as he shot bullet after bullet, falling men and blood and screaming and muzzle flashes and then he couldn't see Sabini anymore and Abe got shot in the shoulder so Alfie tried to shoot the Frenchmen coming over the trenches and grab Abe at the same time. When he looked down, Abe was gone and he was ankle deep in mud. He heard a familiar voice behind him groaning out his name and he ran the other way as fast as he could, shooting far more bullets than his gun could carry. In the midst of the smoke and blood and gunfire, he saw a flash of color out of the corner of his eye. A beautiful color in the midst of all this horror, a color that had no business being here. Periwinkle. He wrenched his body towards that flash, desperate to make sure it wasn't what he thought it was. He struggled over bodies that kept piling in front of him, men screaming and dying and he couldn't _get there_. Then he was digging, scrambling toward the scrap of fabric under a heap of bodies, periwinkle streaked with blood mocking him. He threw bodies off her until he saw her, unseeing eyes cold in her pale, beautiful face.

"No. No! NonononoNONO _NO!_ "

He woke, sweating and panting, clutching sheets in his fists and eyes desperately seeking enemies in the darkness. What he saw was Mabel, her concerned eyes inches from his own and she touched his face, his forehead, her lips pressed into a tight line with worry. He reached for her unthinkingly and pulled her to lay with him and he curled around her. He tucked her into him with his arm around her middle as if she might try to escape. He breathed in the scent of her hair, her neck, and she closed her eyes and leaned into him so trustingly. He let his breathing slow, his thoughts still. She was real and here next to him, safe and whole. He touched the warm skin of her shoulder, as proof she was truly here and followed it down to her arm, her elbow, over the delicate bones of her wrist and down the length of her long fingers. He watched his fingers trace their path in the faint moonlight and reveled in each detail, wishing there was a way to preserve this exact moment and the way she looked right now and the way his throat seized up when she grabbed his fingers with her own and dragged his arm back around her. He wanted to be able to retrieve this exact memory when he was 70 years old and examine the way his chest seemed to be expanding into his throat. He tightened his arm around her even more and held on, wondering how long she'd let him stay there. She felt safe, and sure of herself, and comforting.

"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered, and he felt an overwhelming urge to _cry_ or something equally embarrassing. Instead, he closed his eyes and buried his head in the crook of her neck mumbling, "I'd like to see you try." She chuckled, a soft, rich sound and it felt like a balm spread over his aching muscles. Maybe, if he hurried, she'd stay until he fell asleep and then maybe if he was lucky, the gunfire wouldn't come back.

But he couldn't sleep. Didn't want to, maybe. He listened to her breathing and knew that she was awake too, lying in the dark next to him, listening to his breaths too.

Finally, she said, "Who is the man in the picture on the mantle?"

He didn't ask which picture she was asking about. He was silent for a moment, then, "My brother, Peter." He could hear the creak of sadness in his own voice, and he tried to swallow it down. Generally, he tried not to think of Pete, shutting it away in a box and telling himself he'd open it later. "He died. In the war." She was quiet, but brushed her fingers over the back is his hand, letting him know she was listening if he wanted to talk. He didn't particularly, but being with her was so easy, so when he said, "I wasn't there, and I should have been," he hadn't realized that would be the first thing he had to say about Pete. He pressed his lips together. Now he definitely didn't feel like talking.

"Tell me a story about him."

He picked up her hand and started to trace it. The moonlight hinted at her pale skin and he touched each digit from finger pad to palm, stroking lightly. Her finger curled around and under his, then he entwined them.

"I hit him in the head with a cricket bat one time."

He could hear her answering smile.

"You did?"

"Yeah. On accident."

"Naturally. What did he do to you?"

"Nothing, he was too busy being unconscious," he chuckled lightly. "God, I's fuckin' terrified. I thought I'd killed him. My mother was furious." His words drifted away as he say tangled in memories of people he had loved.

"I always wanted a brother or a sister. I used to beg my parents, like they could get one from the store. They didn't think they could have kids at all."

"And then there was you."

"And then there was me. Miracle child."

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and he pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Yeah." He closed his eyes and let himself fall.

* * *

When Alfie woke the next morning, Mabel's warmth had moved to the other side of the bed. He eased off the mattress and dressed quickly, trying not to wake her.

Stepping out of the bedroom he was assaulted by the delicious smells coming from the kitchen. Fuck. He'd completely forgotten about Rowena.

He thought about sneaking out and was headed to get his coat when she spotted him.

"Now just a minute, sir."

He flinched and turned to face her. She had her fists on her aproned hips, clutching a wooden spoon that he knew from experience she'd use in a heartbeat if she felt it warranted.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Don ye 'yes, ma'am' me, ye get yerself in here right now."

"Yes, ma'am."

She turned in her heel and he followed her, sitting on a stool in the kitchen. He watched her move, making what looked to be a proper English breakfast. For multiple people.

He met her eyes. "I have to leave now."

She made a disapproving _tsk_ noise and turned back to the stove.

"But I'll be back."

"Ye better hope she's still here."

"Well, once she smells all this, who could leave?"

She grunted at him and waved her hand in dismissal. He smiled and grabbed a biscuit, pausing to kiss her cheek on the way out.

Alfie headed toward the hospital, intent on checking in with Abe, but the nurse said he was sleeping and couldn't be disturbed. Even Alfie's meanest scowl didn't change her mind, and he wondered if he was losing his touch.

He gave up and decided to head to the bakery when he caught sight of the man in the bed across the hall. It was Sabini's right-hand man, looking groggy and pale in his hospital gown. Alfie didn't hesitate. He entered the room and shut the door, then drew the pistol from his coat pocket. He drew back the hammer and leveled it at the man's head as the remaining color drained from his face.

"I wanted you to know that I could kill you, right now," he said with calm fury. "But I won't. I want you to wake up tomorrow and know I have allowed you to live and every day after that is Alfie Solomon's gift to you. But I want you to keep it in the back of your mind that I could return at any time and change my mind. So you don't fuck with her. Right? You don't. fuck. with. her. Or you and I are going to have a very uncomfortable conversation." He waited for a the barely perceptible nod from the man in the bed and uncocked his gun. "Give Sabini my love."

He turned to exit, and tipped his hat to the terrified nurse, frozen in the corner. "Ma'am."


	19. Chapter 19

Alfie considered stopping by the bakery, but changed his mind when he remembered Rowena's warning, that Mabel might not be there when he got back. He thought of the panic he'd felt when he'd seen her note and realized she'd gone out alone, hours after Sabini's arseholes had attacked her. He'd been furious at her for about ten seconds, then cold terror had flooded his brain and the sight of her at the mercy of Sabini's men repeated over and over in his head. Now, the confrontation with Sabini's right-hand man in the hospital and the fury of Abe's injury combined to give him a hardened sense of purpose. He made one more stop before heading home.

When he let himself in the front door, he could hear Rowena and Mabel's voices from the kitchen.

"Alfie! Did you have any of this?" Mabel crowed when she caught sight of him. "This woman is amazing, how do you not weigh 25 stones?" Mabel's laughing voice lifted the black mood he'd felt hovering around his senses. "Come on, I'll make you a plate," she said as she tugged him by the hand over to the overflowing table. She kept up a running chatter as she moved around, commenting on Rowena's cooking, the bathroom, the dress she'd already needed to clean, and he let it flood over him and wash away the grit in his mind from the previous day. He ate, and listened, and let his mind wander pleasantly. She had an extraordinary way of making him feel settled, like he'd already accomplished his goals for the day.

When he'd finished eating and she sat across the table from him looking at him expectantly, he said, "I bought you something." Her eyes brightened and he let Rowena take their plates away while he pulled her into the sitting room.

The box was old, scarred wood, ugly and squat amid the fine fabric of the sofa. She looked at him curiously, but settled it on her lap and let her fingers examine the outside quietly before opening the latch.

Her breath hitched as she caught sight of the metal inside, gleaming dully in the morning light. She studied the small gun with her eyes, then softly with her fingers. She didn't lift it, but raised her eyes to his, clearly trying to hide the apprehension that lay there. "I don't…" she started. "I don't know how," she confessed.

"I'll teach ya. 'S not hard." He reached inside the box and withdrew the small bundle of leather she'd overlooked. "This?" he said, picking up the gun, "goes here…" and slid it into the delicate holster. "And this…" he picked up the gun and holster, "goes here." His fingers grazed the outside of her thigh. "You wear it all the time, yeah?"

"Yeah, alright." She seemed a little shaken, but pressed her lips together determinedly. Alfie felt an odd squeeze somewhere in his chest, so he rose quickly and tugged her hand.

"Come on. There's a place that's not far."

They spent the rest of the morning in a field where Alfie made her practice drawing the gun from her new holster, underneath yards of fabric and even though she flushed with embarrassment, he made her keep repeating the movements until he was satisfied she could draw it quickly if needed.  Then he taught her the parts of the gun, how to load and fire, and Mabel practiced until her cheeks were pink and her nose ran and finally she called it off because she couldn't feel her hands. 

"Not bad, eh?" she smiled at him as she navigated her way back to the car, picking her way over the heaps and valleys of the field.

"Not bad?!" Alfie scowled at her. "O'course you're gonna do better than 'not bad' when I'm teachin' ya."

She chuckled. "I'd like to try again tomorrow." When Alfie hesitated, she added, "If that's alright."

"Course. Course it's fuckin' alright." Alfie's mind churned with the things he'd abandoned in favor of spending the day with her, and the things he needed to put in place tomorrow. With Mabel gone, the running of the bakery was taking over most of his days, and with the war on, he needed to be in front of his men. Normally he'd send Abe in his stead, but… He cut off his train of thought and focused on Mabel. "Jus' busy is all."

"Alfie, if there's anything I can do to help, I'd be happy to come in," she offered quietly.

Alfie looked her over from head to toe. Her dress was rumpled, there was color in her cheeks from the wind and cold and exertion of the day, and her hair was floating away from her pins, whipping in the breeze. She looked exhilarated. ' _And lovely,_ ' his mind supplied.

"Aww, now, what could a delicate lady such as yourself do in a place like that?"

She laughed, throwing her head back to the open sky. He answered her with a grin and helped her back into the car. On the drive back, she was quiet, fingers caressing the pearl hand grips of the undersized pistol in her lap. She didn't say anything until he'd pulled up in front of the house and shut off the car. Mabel leaned forward and kissed his scruffy cheek.

"Thank you. Again. I…there are not words for what I want to say to you."

"Mmph." He brushed off the sentiment, and made to climb out of the car.

"Alfie." Her voice stopped him and he turned back. She licked her lips, eyes on her lap. He waited. "I…" she started, then tried again. "The gun means a lot to me. I don't like being a victim, and I'm glad to have some way to stand on my own two feet. It's a very great gift you've given me, being able to protect myself. I value my independence more than you know."

Alfie gave her an annoyed, knowing look. There wasn't anyone on the planet more determined to be independent than the woman sitting next to him. If he were smarter, he'd keep her closer and uninformed, which is exactly what he'd do if he were trying to impress her with how much he could do for her. Women in the past had appreciated his power and reach, and he'd been proud of his ability to overwhelm and then override them. But Mabel was a creature he'd never encountered before, and while she was unknowable much of the time, her desire to do for herself was unmistakable. He was only sorry he hadn't gotten her the gun before Sabini had a chance to attack her.

"I know you think I'm ridiculous," she continued, "but I just need…I just _have_ to prove that I can do it by myself."

"Fuck," Alfie muttered. "'S not ridiculous." Alfie had been alone his entire life and had a few things to say about having to do it by yourself but he also understood that Mabel came from a different place, and had different hurdles to overcome. He brushed a thumb over her cheek, then gave into the impulse to kiss her lips, sweet and perfect. He had to be ok with letting her do it by herself. "If you're bored later, I've heard some very good things about you around the bakery. Come by and you can show me what you can do."

Mabel arched an eyebrow at him. "At the bakery? When we have this glorious bed right here?"

Alfie grinned, and let himself kiss her again. And again. And again.

* * *

The bakery bustled with an unfamiliar energy and Mabel soaked it in, like a plant that had gone too long without water. Alfie had brushed past her, face a furrow of concentration, on his way to his office, and she ignored him in favor of noting the small changes that had happened in her absence. Her desk was still there, and she gratefully fell into the routine of organizing the mess. It didn't take long for the floor to find out she was back, and somewhere between the jovial greetings and the needy demands, it was like she'd never left.

She navigated the dusty barrels and the darkened corners, smiling when she noticed the Harrington order gone and new charcoal barrels in their place. This place was a part of her, and she folded it back into her heart where it belonged.

When she went to Alfie's office to grab something, she noticed a very nervous Travers hovering at Alfie's elbow. She wondered at Alfie's choice of temporary Abe replacement. Travers was…well, when she tried to picture him threatening someone she almost giggled. It bothered her for some reason, Alfie surely knew what he was doing, but she felt an almost mother hen obligation to protect Travers. She rolled it around in her head the rest of the day. There were a few men at the bakery she would have picked before Travers, they fit Alfie's personality, they were smart, and they knew how to take orders. Chambers maybe, or Georgie. She cringed at the thought of losing one of them on her crew, but—suddenly Mabel remembered the pool they'd had going and wondered if Alfie had indeed managed to make someone wet themselves during one of his tongue lashings. If not, she wouldn't give Travers the rest of the week. She realized that Alfie tended to work with and promote the people he knew the best, and she wondered how well he knew everyone on the floor. She resolved to send Georgie and Chambers to Alfie's office more often to get them in front of him. Alfie was no fool, he'd recognize worth when he saw it.

At the end of the day, she packed up her desk and as she was turning off the lamp she remembered that she didn't have a place to live. She'd spent the last few nights at Alfie's, but her parents would lose their minds if they knew that. At the very least, she'd need to call them to let them know where she was staying. She sighed. At the rate she was going, no boarding house or hotel in London would take her on the probability of bloodshed. Well, there was nothing for it. She'd have to find something, and quickly. Hopefully Alfie would let her stay another night before she wore out her welcome. She was sure a man so used to living alone would be glad to have his space back to himself.

When she stopped by his office and heard him yelling into the telephone, she had already decided to beg a ride and ask to spend another night at his house while promising to find something tomorrow. She let herself into the small room, watching his furrowed face, the flick of his intelligent eyes, and the movement of his fingers as he rolled something between them. He saw her looking and threw it into the drawer, with a little more force than necessary and she felt like she'd intruded. Maybe this was a bad time to ask him for things. She checked the watch at her belt and knew that she still had time to get a cab and find a room at a hotel, if she left soon. She looked at Alfie once more, taking in the way he pointed at the empty air in front of him while he was talking and slammed his fist on the desk. His shoulders were tense, his eyes focused and he leaned forward unconsciously. His end of the conversation was terse, his words clipped and biting, even through the veil of nonchalance he usually employed. He'd been doing this all day, and with Abe gone, he'd been doing it alone. She felt the urge to hug him, to let him know that he wasn't alone. She walked behind him and laid her hand on his shoulder. The unmistakable flinch she felt made her worry that she'd overstepped, but he met her eyes and leaned back in his chair and she kept her hand there. She started to knead away the knots of tension in his neck and shoulders, taking her time and focusing solely on the muscles under her hands. He carried his stress in his shoulders, like her, and she tried to decide if anyone had ever done this for him before. She thought of the activities that she knew Alfie did in his down time, and decided he was probably at a high level of stress at all times. She knew he played poker and she'd heard he was a fairly good boxer, but she wondered if he did anything where he didn't feel like he needed to win at any cost.

He pulled her back to reality when he slammed the handset back on the hook and collapsed into the chair. "Fuck." He drug a hand down his face.

"Aww, poor baby. Bad day at work?" Mabel placed small kisses up the side of his neck and nuzzled his ear, reveling in the scent of him.

"Pssh," he said, but he leaned his head to give her better access. "Let's go home."

She paused, and he seemed to realize what he'd said. She gave him a final kiss and moved around so she could see his face.

"I was going to ask you about that," she said. This felt like a conversational minefield. She couldn't read his face, so she plowed ahead. "I know you probably want your space back, and I was planning on looking for something tomorrow. But I can get something else for tonight if you'd prefer…" Mabel trailed off, not daring to meet his eyes.

He didn't say anything. She had been hoping he'd say something, give her an idea of where they stood. But he just squinted at her and waited.

"I mean, I'd like to stay, it's just that my parents are going to want to know where I am at some point, and, well, Rowena's been very understanding about the circumstances but not everyone would be and I wouldn't—"

"Rowena's been understanding because she'd like you to stay forever."

Mabel's eyes snapped to his, knowing he had deliberately laid a mine at her feet and horrified she would misstep.

"Mabe." Alfie took her hand and Mabel clenched her jaw to keep the self-conscious nervous blabber that was clawing its way up from her churning stomach from spilling out.  The way he'd said, 'Mabe', didn't sound positive.  

He looked almost apologetic as he said, "My life is—"

"I know." She couldn't stop it and she was desperate to keep him from continuing. She wasn't exactly sure what he was going to say, but she couldn't listen to him deem her unworthy. She just didn't think she could bear that right now. "I know that you don't want…that. It doesn't make sense for you. And that's ok," she hastened to assure him. "I mean, I understand, truly I do. And I have plans for my life too. But Alfie…you're not alone. I want to stand beside you, help you if I can. I meant it, I'm not going anywhere." She faltered, then held her breath.

Alfie kissed her, hard and slicing, his kiss all teeth and fear and need that he couldn't voice. "Mabe," he confessed, "I'm no good at this. I didn't think Sabini would even find out about you—us, so soon. I didn't want to put you through any of this and this doesn't have to be your life. If you want to be done with this, I don't blame you and I can get you out of the city. But I need to know you understand that otherwise, if you stay? You're in this now. You've got a target on your back and you can either prepare for it, or get as far away from the shots as you can, yeah?"

Mabel smiled softly. "I was in it a long time ago. Hell, I came back to it. I know you and I'm not stupid, and I'd rather face the shots together. Yeah?"

Alfie leaned back, his sharp eyes studying her, flicking back and forth over her face. "Come with me," he finally said. "There's someone I want you to see."

When they got to the hospital, Abe was awake and looked bored out of his skull. He was glad to see them, and Mabel fussed at him for a while. He asked Alfie about Sabini, but Alfie told him to rest and let Alfie worry for a change. Abe snorted, but answered Mabel's questions and before they left asked them, shyly, if they would let his mother know he was ok. Finally the very handsome doctor shooed them from the room and Mabel raised her eyebrows at Abe and he glared back. She grinned and waved and headed out the door, Alfie's hand on the small of her back. At the last minute, he said he needed to tell Abe one more thing, so she chatted with the night nurse, a burly woman who reminded her fondly of her Nan. Mabel teased her about making sure to take extra good care of Abe, and she pretended to be offended that anyone would think differently. It turned out that she grew up not far from Lincoln, but had settled in London after the war. Mabel was impressed with the battle hardened woman in front of her, and grateful she would be the one to watch over Abe. Then Alfie returned, and the nurse glared daggers at him until they left.

As they headed for the car, Mabel smirked at Alfie. "I know what you're trying to do, but you don't scare me, Alfie Solomons. You think I don't know what's at stake? But thank you for bringing me, I've been wanting to see Abe anyway. Warn me next time though, yeah? I wanted to bring him something to take his mind off of things until he gets out."

Alfie frowned. "He's getting out. The sooner the better."

"What? But you heard him, the doctor said it'll take at least—"

"Sabini's right-hand man is across the hall."

"Oh."

"And I threatened him."

"Ah, that changes things."  She pondered for a moment.  "Well, can he leave now? I can help carry him and we can drop him at a hotel. I could get a room there too and keep an eye on him until he can hold a gun."

Alfie's eyes twinkled and he quirked an eyebrow at her.

"What?"

He opened the car door and revealed Abe in the back, grimacing and clutching his arm to his chest, but upright and steady.

"You're a wonderful distraction, love."

It was Mabel's turn to grunt, "Mmph," and she climbed in.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for hanging with me, guys! Enjoy!

Mabel's hotel room was down the hall from Abe's and she helped him up the stairs and get settled in. She tucked blankets around him and puttered around the room.

"I'll check on you in the morning before I go to work and then right after I get back. Will you be ok while I'm gone during the day? Should I send someone to check on you? I should send someone to check on you. Just a second and I'll run down to the front desk."

"No, don't, I'll be fine. You don't have to check on me." Abe's grimace of pain didn't stop his eyes from drooping and she snorted.

"I bloody well will, you can't even keep your eyes open. Do you need anything? When was the last time you had pain medication?"

"'m fine, don't check on me. And I don't know. But 'm fine, doesn't even hurt," he said breathlessly.

"Uh huh. Alright, but then I need a favor."

Abe's eyes fluttered open, concern crossing his features. "Course, you ok?"

Mabel chuckled. "Yeah, I'm fine. But I was hoping you could teach me how to play cards."

"Cards." Abe's face was blank as if he'd forgotten the meaning of the word.

"Yeah, you know, cards? I've never learned, my parents didn't approve. But I'm in the big, bad city anyway…and if I happen to bring you some aspirin and change your bandages and make sure you don't get an infection while I'm learning, well, we can call it even. What do you say?"

A smile ghosted over Abe's face. He nodded once before laying his head back and was asleep within seconds. She closed his door quietly and decided she'd better keep her word.  She headed downstairs to use the hotel's phone to contact Abe's mum. Mabel wasn't looking forward to the call, mostly because she wasn't sure how to explain what had happened, or how his mum would react. She didn't know anything about Abe's mum, in fact, all she had was a slip of paper with a hastily scribbled telephone number and a name—Ruth. Mabel steeled herself for the worst and dialed.

 _"Hello?"_ an older woman's voice answered.

"Hello, is this Ruth, Abe's mother?"

There was a long pause, and Mabel was about the check the connection when the woman said suspiciously, _"Who is this?"_

"Hello, my name is Mabel Ziemann, I work with your son Abe? Well, I'm his friend."

Then Mabel had a horrible flash of Ruth reading into the term 'friend'.

"I mean," Mabel hastened to add, "I'm his boss."

This wasn't coming out right. She tried again.

"I'm the foreman at the—"

_"What do you want?"_

"Abe asked me to call you." She took a deep breath and rushed out, "He's going to be unavailable for the next few days, we need him at work, but he wanted me to let you know not to worry."

_"Why would I be worried about that? Why did he ask you to call me to tell me that?"_

Mabel felt the same flare of panic she felt anytime she tried to lie to her own mother. Abe owed her for this. "Oh, no reason. He just wanted you to be kept informed."

 _"Kept informed."_ She didn't sound convinced.

"Yes! Well, ok, that's all I wanted to say, so it was lovely talking to you, goodnight!" Mabel hung up before Ruth could reply. She glared in the direction of Abe's room and crossed her fingers that he would be at least a little better in a few days so he could deal with his mother himself.

Mabel drug herself up to her room, suddenly feeling defeated. She flopped herself on the bed and stared at the cracked ceiling and wondered how long it would be before Abe could raise his arm high enough to aim a gun. She wondered, had they had transferred Abe to the hotel soon enough to deter any attacks that might be headed their way? Was Sabini going to be able to track them down? She and Abe had used fake names to rent the rooms, but Alfie was too recognizable and had stayed in the car. She clenched her eyes shut, hoping and praying that it would be enough. Worry gnawed at her gut and she couldn't sit still any longer. She pushed herself up from the bed, intent on her favorite form of therapy: taking a walk. But as she reached for the door handle, she remembered they were hiding, and it would do no good to go wandering around Camden in the dark for the sole purpose of making herself feel better. She forced her hands to her sides to still them and herself, but her fingertips grazed the thick folds of her skirt and she felt the holster concealed underneath. She spent an hour practicing drawing the gun, then when her arm ached from the repetition she got ready for bed and practiced loading and unloading her pistol until her fingers moved of their own accord and the bullets no longer felt foreign in her hands.

Eventually, she slept, fitfully, and when she woke up sweating and panting from a dream where she was being chased, she wasn't surprised. As she waited for her heart rate to slow, her mind felt clunky and she was grumpy. She knew she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, even though the sun was only just beginning to stain the sky with light. She counted the hours since they'd absconded with Abe and decided to see if he was awake. He was, only just, and from the look on his face when he answered her knock, it was because he was in pain. She convinced him to take some aspirin and propped him up in the bed, adjusting pillows and fussing until he suggested they start a game of cards.

A few hands later, Mabel was decidedly less groggy, but her mood wasn't improved when she found out she was rubbish at poker. She glared at Abe peeking at his cards one-handed and upping the ante by two more toothpicks. She set her cards down on the bed.

"I have an idea, let's stop playing cards and I'll poke at your open wound."

Abe lifted an eyebrow but allowed her to change his bandages. She inspected the damage before reminding herself that she had no idea what she was looking for and finished wrapping him up as best she could. It wasn't as neat as the nurses had managed, but it would do. Daylight was peeking over the window sill and she knew she'd need to head into the bakery soon. She briefly considered contacting one of the nurses that had helped them before but dismissed it as too dangerous, for the nurses as well as she and Abe. She chewed her lip, trying to decide.

"Abe, here. I want you to keep this until I get back." She drew the gun from the holster on her thigh, turning so she wouldn't embarrass Abe, and presenting it to him.

He looked at her with a muted horror in his eyes. "Absolutely not. I'm not going to take your gun, you keep it."

"Abe, don't be silly. You're the one who is at the most risk, you're the one that they'd come after first and you're the one who would be least able to defend yourself without a gun. You need it more than I do."

"I'm not being silly, and I'm not taking that. You're the one that was actually attacked by Sabini. I just got in the way of an already-fired bullet."

Mabel stilled. Something about the way he said that drew her eyebrows together. "What? Wait, what do you mean?"

Abe shrugged his uninjured shoulder minutely, eyes on the duvet.

"Abe. Tell me you didn't step in front of that already-fired bullet on purpose."

Abe semi-shrugged again. "Better me than him," he said quietly, raising his eyes to hers.

Mabel's breath caught in her throat. There was no question as to who the "him" was, and she felt stunned as she realized how close she'd come to not having him walk back into that bakery. Slowly, gently, she leaned forward and hugged Abe, gathering him as close as she dared without hurting him and trying to force back the threatening tears. She remembered that night, thanking whatever forces allowed him to come back to her, and now she was sitting in a shite hotel room hugging that force while she made him take aspirin and play cards.

"Oh, Abe," she breathed. "Thank you."

He chuckled awkwardly and patted her with his good hand. She realized she was making him self-conscious and forced herself to pull back, although she was fairly sure he deserved to be hugged every second for the rest of his natural life.

She sniffled a tiny bit and gave him a watery smile. "I am going to find the sexiest doctor in London and send him round to check on you." He smiled at her, wide and genuine.

"Uh huh. Just take the gun with you."

"Aaaaaabe…" Mabel whined.

"Now stop it. You know Alfie would kill me himself if he found out I'd taken your only means of protection to clutch while I hide in under the bedcovers. You'll be out and about, and if Alfie is concerned, he knows where I am."

When he said it like that, she reluctantly agreed he had a point.

"Uuuuuuuugggggh, fine. Be that way. I'm going to go," she said, dropping a quick kiss on his forehead (no fever, good), "and head to the bakery. Do you need anything before I go? Can I bring something back for you?"

"Bring me any news you hear, I'd be much obliged."

"Only if we get to play a different sodding card game next time," she said with a wink and headed out the door.

Mabel had been at the bakery a total of five minutes when Travers came scurrying over to her and said that Mr. Solomons would like to see her. She could hear Alfie screaming through the open office door. "I'll handle it, Travers. Why don't you hide in the back for a little while, maybe he'll forget you're here."

"Yeah? You think?"

 _"Not bloody likely,"_ she thought, but anything was possible.

"Sure. He'll ease up eventually, don't worry," she said out loud and headed towards the screaming.

She entered his office just as he was throwing the telephone handset across the desk and closed the door behind her. The handset swung slightly, suspended by the cord off the edge of the desk and dangling pathetically. He glared at her automatically but before he could open his mouth to rant, she cut in.

"Are your ribs healed yet?" she asked innocently.

Alfie blinked, clearly thrown. "What? My ribs? Why?"

"Because I want to know how hard I have to hit you to get you to stop bloody yelling at me."

Alfie blinked again. Then a smile twitched at his lips, which he struggled to hide. So Mabel smiled for him. As she beamed at him sunnily, he crossed his arms and sat on the edge of his desk, lips curling involuntarily. He gestured at the chair for her to sit.

"Abe is doing well."

"Uh. Good. That's…that's good."

Mabel looked at him curiously. "What did you need?"

Alfie settled himself against the desk, folding his fingers together. "This isn't about what I need. It's about what you need."

Mabel arched an eyebrow at him.

"You're going to ask me for a loan."

Now it was Mabel's turn to blink at him. "A loan?"

Alfie leaned back and crossed his arms. "Why Ms. Ziemann, that's a fuckin' brilliant idea, wish I'd thought of it. I'd be happy to give you a loan, thanks for asking."

Mabel bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. "What do I need a loan for?"

"Well, it's a bit unorthodox to ask for a loan and not know how you want to spend the money, yeah?"

"Okay..." Mabel stretched the word out. "How much am I borrowing?"

"I'll say a substantial amount." Alfie was clearly enjoying himself.

"And what am I going to do with the substantial amount of money I get from you?"

"Right, that's simple. You're going to give it to me."

Mabel huffed out a breath of confusion and annoyance. "Ok, I'll bite. What are you talking about?"

"You're going to buy my bakery."

The words floated silently between them for eons. Then Mabel's heart started beating again and her eyelids blinked rapidly and she drew in a shaky breath. Loathe to say the single word that reverberated in her skull, she looked at him and waited.

Finally, he couldn't contain his grin any longer. He beamed at her, reveling in her expression. Then he sobered, planted his hands on the desk and met her hopeful eyes.

"Mabel. My bakery is about one-tenth of my income. The last few weeks have taken up a fuckin' disproportionate amount of my time. But fuck if I'm gonna sell it to some rich wanker who doesn't know what the fuck he's doin'. Right, so. Here's what we're gonna do."

Mabel allowed herself to feel a thread of excitement. She smirked and crossed her legs, settling back.

"You're gonna handle the day-to-day, managing, shipping orders…" he waved his hand descriptively. "I'm gonna provide you protection, supply routes, handle the muscle if you need it, and you, of course, will compensate me generously. It's actually fuckin' exorbitant, you should really talk to someone about that."

Mabel shook her head and smiled.

"You get to pick your own crew, o'course, fire every single bastard in here if you want. But I get Abe."

"You sure? He's kind of a whinging baby right now. And a bloody awful poker player. I really don't know what you see in him."

"Right, no chance, he's still mine. You can have Travers though, fuck, he's like a kicked puppy. I'll just…make due until Abe's back on his feet."

"Ugh, I can't believe you're making me…ok, either Georgie or Chambers would be a perfect replacement-Abe, but I want them back when you're done. And if I find out you're kicking my puppies, I'm going to have something to say about it."

"God, you're terrifying. I take back my offer of protection, you won't need it."

"Fuck off," she smiled at him.

"See?" he grinned back at her. "You're gonna be perfect at this."

Mabel felt her throat constrict and she struggled to control the flood of emotions tumbling about inside her. He was handing her the dream she'd been chasing for years like it wasn't something that tilted the world on its axis. And he was smiling and saying words like 'perfect' while he did it. 

"Alfie, I...I don't know what to say."

"Except?" he teased.

"Except..." Mabel pretended to think about it. "Get off of my desk?"

Alfie's face dropped and he scowled. "You're not bloody funny."

She couldn't stop the grin that took over and she launched herself at him, kissing every inch of his scruffy face she could reach.

" _You're_ perfect. I'm going to make you so proud, you watch," she said in between her rapid kisses.

"Course you fuckin' will. Won't be hard," he said as he tried to catch her lips and finally stilled her face between his warm, dry palms. He held her so he could look her in the eye. "You already do."

She captured his mouth with her own, kissing him and kissing him and ignoring the tears that snuck out from under her lids. She was deliriously, perfectly happy and as she pulled back to see the crinkle beside his eyes and the confidence beaming off him she decided, _"This. This moment. I want to live in this moment."_ Then she kissed him again.

* * *

Epilogue:

Alfie slammed into the office and headed straight for the liquor cart, his face like thunder. Mabel quirked an eyebrow at him but said nothing as he downed a glass of her finest rum without tasting it.

"Fuckin' hell," he said as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

"Bad day, was it?" She shuffled papers and made a few notes before giving him her full attention.

"Mmph."

"Everything alright?"

He poured another glass before answering her "I swear to God if I have to deal with Tommy fuckin' Shelby one more time… See, if you see a fuckin' nail, you hit it with a fuckin' hammer, yeah? You don't talk to it until it works its own way into the fuckin' board. I'm fuckin' done, honest. I'm giving it all up. You're in control now."

"That's not what you said last night," she said, her eyes twinkling.

He turned to her, his eyes sharp on hers. He gave her his best scowl, which was ruined by the way his lips twitched and he finally gave into the chuckle she usually managed to work out of him.

"Right. I stay to fight another day, I guess."

She nodded to the glass in his hand. "What do you think?"

"Oh, this? I already took a barrel with me when I was in yesterday. It's in my cellar."

"You what!?"

Alfie covered his smug smile by taking another sip.

"Alfie Solomons, you right bastard! Do you know how much that is worth?! A _barrel_?! Why didn't anyone tell me? Don't answer that," she huffed out at his answering smirk.

He moved to stand behind her and set the glass on the desk before running his hands over the tight cords in her shoulders. His lips found her ear and he rumbled, "Mmm. You can just call it my birthday present."

She snorted. "A whole barrel!" but she stopped protesting as he nuzzled his way down her neck and found that spot below her ear that sent goosebumps down her arms and made her eyelids drift closed. "Mmph. I'm not giving you the present that I actually got you then."

"No? And what's that then?"

But Mabel was stopped from answering by a loud rumble coming from outside the bakery. Alfie tensed, then moved quickly to the door, drawing his gun as he walked. He cracked the door, then moved stealthily out and down the dusty hallway, eyes sweeping the familiar shadows. He barely registered Mabel's presence behind him, only acknowledging her as she crouched next to him, behind cover and out of his line of sight. She learned quickly.

"What do you think it is?" she breathed anxiously.

Alfie frowned, his mind whirring and unease settling in his stomach. Something was definitely wrong. He hadn't gotten wind of any trouble like this brewing and he paid good money for information like this. He was missing something and he hated that feeling. He could hear shouting outside, but couldn't make out individual voices. The rumble had gotten louder, and closer, an engine big enough to rattle the window panes. Almost like a...

Alfie whipped around to look at Mabel and saw that she was grinning at him. She rose and held out her hand, her smile widening as she pulled him to his feet. His body wasn't so sure about dropping the tight spiral it had been building up to, but he allowed himself to be drug out the bay doors and into the yard. She stood next to him, one hand lifted to shield her eyes from the flying dust and her skirts whipping around her ankles as an honest-to-God tank rolled up outside the bakery. Alfie realized his mouth was gaping and struggled to close it. He looked at Mabel, astonishment in his eyes.

"You bought me a tank."

She laughed, pearls of sound echoing around the yard. "I did."

"You...you bought me...a tank," Alfie stammered again, amazement and wonder clouding his voice.

She grinned and grasped his face between her palms. "Happy birthday, love."

Alfie grinned and kissed her. Then he wrapped his arms around her middle and spun her once, and he let out a rumble of laughter that reverberated in her soul.

_Fin._


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year later:  
> Alfie's had a rough day. Mabel had plans for the evening, but is it enough to pull him out of his funk?

Mabel heard Alfie at the front door and held her breath.  Abe had told her before she'd left for the day that she might want to make herself scarce tonight.  Apparently it had been a bad run-in with the Shelbys and he was in a black mood. 

"Screaming his fool head off, huh?" she teased.  But Abe didn't laugh.  He looked...grim.

"No.  He's not saying anything, actually."  Abe slowly replaced his hat and let himself out of her office, his eyes on the floor.  Mabel frowned.  Alfie was dangerous when he was silent, and she wondered if maybe she should put off her plans for the evening.  She'd decided against it, but now she worried the fabric of her dress between her fingers and hoped it was the right decision.  She rose from the sofa, and the puppy she'd been playing with bounded down and raced to greet the stranger at the door.

Alfie's blank mask blinked into a look of surprise, then was quickly replaced with a fierce scowl. "Well, what do we have here?" he growled, bending down to scratch the pup, with a softer touch than his voice suggested.  The puppy squirmed with delight and tried to lick every scrap of skin she could reach.  Alfie's face softened, almost against his will.  "Hello, love, where the hell did you come from?" he said quietly.  He picked up the tiny, caramel-coated pit bull puppy and nestled it into the crook of his arm.  His eyes sought Mabel's, hard and questioning.  "What is this?"  His voice was flinty and unflinching.  

"She was going to be put down.  The owner said he couldn't handle so many puppies and she was the smallest, so she was going to go first..." Mabel felt herself babbling and forced herself to stop. "But she's healthy...and she's just a little bit sassy."  She swallowed and offered him a tiny smile.  "Do you like her?" She bit her lip, hoping he wouldn't mind too much that she'd expanded their tiny family without asking and added responsibilities onto his already full plate, not to mention hers as well.  

"Doesn't seem to matter what I like or don't like, yeah?" 

Mabel felt her heart sink. 

His gruff voice was focused on the pup in his arm, running his fingers over velvety ears as a tiny tongue tried to lick his wrist.  "What's her name?"

"She doesn't have one.  Yet."  Mabel held her breath again.  

Alfie frowned again, his mask firmly back in place.  Mabel could usually read him, at least enough to know when to cut and run, but she wasn't sure what was going on in his head now.  Maybe she should have asked Abe more about the Shelby meeting.  Maybe she should have waited to see how he was doing before--

"Peaches," he said and, finally, his lip quirked up, his smile small, tentative and fragile.  She smiled back, relieved.  He kissed the pup's head and carried her off towards the kitchen, murmuring nonsense against her fur.  In the doorway, he paused, his head still bent to the puppy's.  "Mmph.  I agree," she heard him grumble.  He turned and walked to where she was still standing in the living room, the fabric of her skirt caught unconsciously in between her fingertips.  Alfie slipped his free hand around her waist to press against the small of her back, his fingers splayed wide.  He pressed his lips to her forehead and held her there for a moment, the puppy, Peaches, squirming between them.  Then Mabel felt his shoulders relax a bit and she smiled, her eyelids slipping shut.  She was glad she hadn't waited, because even that grumpy bastard couldn't resist a wriggly puppy.  She watched him carry the puppy into the kitchen and putter around getting a bowl for Peaches and tearing pieces of the meal Rowena had left out for him into it, his low rumble never stopping.  His voice calmed the puppy and she watched him, her ears at rapt attention.  Mabel grinned, unable to stop the joy spreading from ear to ear.  He was on the floor of the kitchen, still wearing his hat and his greatcoat, the puppy's tail wiggling her entire back end as she jumped on him, tongue lolling. 

_"Nope, it's this moment.  This is the one I want to live in forever,"_ she thought.

Best birthday gift yet.


End file.
